Resolution
by Lola Hard
Summary: *Jazz/OC; postmovie 2007* 2 months after the battle for the Allspark. A human girl has a strange disease. Good thing is, Autobots are willing to solve her problems. Bad thing is, Decepticons want their share of fun, too...
1. Getting Disturbed

**Title:** Resolution

**Fandom:** Transformers (post-movie 2007)

**Pairing:** Jazz/humanOFC (not Mary Sue! Jeez…)

**Rating:** R or T (for language and violence, maybe adult themes in later chapters)

**Genre:** Romance/Adventure

**Summary:** A couple of months have passed since the destruction of the Allspark. A young girl named Rita is a singer in a pop-rock band. She seems to be a successful artist and have a good life, but an unknown disease is slowly killing her. To add more to her plate, strange people are hunting after her, their motives and reasons unknown. It's then when partially repaired Jazz appears on the horizon. And it all seems to be more serious than even the powerful Autobots could imagine.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the universe of Transformers and its characters. But I do own my original character Rita and her background.

**Author's Notes:** Big gratitude to my beta Kristie, she did a great job with righting all my wrongs. Thank you, hun :)

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**Chapter 1 – "Getting Disturbed" **

Electric guitar chords flew from the stage and filled the "Jet Club". Talented fingers of a guitarist ripped a masterly passage from his instrument, and it was answered by a low growl of a highly-skilled bass line. A drummer defined the tempo with four sweeping hi-hat strikes, and the trio played the beginning part of one of their songs.

Rita sat at a bar and watched her band. They were one hour through sound check, and still had one hour left. And after that she would have almost 24 hours for herself until the show. She could go sightseeing around the city which looked pretty impressive and kinda strange, as if a huge tornado had stormed through it not long ago; or play strip poker with her bandmates; or sleep her head off in a hotel; or…

"Okay, the instrumental part is fine," the sound director's voice interrupted her thoughts and the guys' performance. "Let's try vocals now. Rita, please take your place onstage."

She made her way to a microphone stand and checked the sound by clicking her tongue. She hated to repeat "one, two, three" on each check, so she usually just started to sing.

But as she took a breath for her first musical phrase, her vision darkened all of a sudden, and she clutched to the stand. Everything around her became blurred and all sounds seemed distant. _Oh, no…_

"Rita...?" A worried voice calling her was muffled, like the person that spoke was separated from her by a wall. "Hey, Rita, are you alright...? Rita!"

The world swayed. _Not again…_

Someone was running to her, she heard other voices, and then – only darkness.

x-x-x

'_Ratchet to Prime. Come in.'_

'_Prime here. What is it?'_

'_The scanners at our base have just intercepted a strange signal.'_

'_What kind?'_

'_Unknown to us. It does not look like that of the Decepticons, and it can not belong to the humans either.'_

'_Where is it coming from?'_

'_I can not tell precisely. Just an approximate area, its range is about 20 miles. Your orders, Optimus?'_

'_Gather the others at the base in 15 minutes. Prime out.'_

'_Roger that, sir. Ratchet out.'_

x-x-x

"It is _my_ concern and _my_ headache, Rita, you do not have a say in this."

They presented a strange image: a tiny red-haired girl storming down the hospital corridor, clumsily trying to put on a jacket, and a tall man following her and trying to actually make her _listen _to what he thought was a reasonable course of action.

"We have a contract, Michael. They're probably already worried whether I'll be able to perform tomorrow night. I don't want to hear anything about my wellbeing anymore." Rita resumed her hurried way to the exit. She managed to put her right arm through the sleeve, but it was a bit more difficult with the left one, since the jacket belonged to Michael and she could wrap it around herself at least twice, and also she was still a little unsteady on her legs and wasn't going to slow down.

"This is not the first time it had happened. It is _my_ decision to make, don't make me force you," the man kept pushing, getting irritated. "I'm sorry," he apologized to the side, having almost collided with a nurse carrying some papers.

"You may be a director of my band, but it doesn't change the fact that all this fuss is in vain," Rita muttered resolutely. "You should know by now that any equipment in this goddamned hospital – or in any other, might I add – will show you only a blank list. That is if it stays functional after analyzing my condition. Just bear with it."

They stormed into the vestibule which was unexpectedly deserted and empty.

"I still insist-"

Rita stopped abruptly, and Michael almost bumped into her. The girl whirled around and faced him. An ice-cold anger in her green eyes seemed to have frozen the rest of the sentence in his throat.

"It's _useless_, damn it! I don't want to waste _time_ for getting examined. I've got better things to do…" The girl averted her gaze. "While I still have time," she added quietly.

An awkward silence hung between the two. The ticking of clock on the wall sounded like a pulse of a cold mechanical heart.

"I'm outta here," Rita said, finally putting the jacket all the way on, which gave her looks a resemblance to a homeless child. "Don't go after me, I want… to be alone right now."

She then turned around again and left the building. The man stared after her, his hand running through his hair, pain visible in his eyes. He felt helpless.

x-x-x

The evening sky was absolutely clear, and only a small group of transparent clouds looking like hesitant strokes of an enormous paint-brush seemed to escort the orange-red sun on its unhurried way to the horizon.

The rays of the amber star rested upon the armor of four giant metallic figures that were standing still like alien statues on a deserted land away from the city where humans lived. The figures were looking at a big blue-red semi-truck approaching them in a cloud of dry yellow dust. It stopped about thirty feet from them and started to change, taking the humanoid shape, similar to theirs.

Transformation took several seconds, and then the azure eyes of the newly arrived Optimus Prime looked over each of his friends with a fatherly concern. His attentive and calm stare lingered on the silver bot, the smallest of them, the last robot the Allspark had given birth to. Or, the second birth, to be more exact. Its last shard had been implanted into Jazz's spark case. Nobody had been sure that it would work until he came back online. It was a combination of Ratchet's knowledge and sheer luck, and they still couldn't believe it. Jazz was with them again, as if he'd never been absent. And now was staring at his leader with the same emotion in his optics that could be read in the others' as well: confidence. Were they confident in success? Or in his abilities of a leader? In the face of the unknown the leader could only play his part.

Optimus turned to the lime-green bot. "Ratchet, please, explain the situation."

"Yes sir," the medic replied, starting his report without further ado. "About twenty Earth minutes ago the scanners here at the base detected an unknown kind of signal. It was rather weak, and that would be the reason why our personal scanners were – and still are – unable to detect it, unlike the stationary ones. If we are to find the source we shall have to get exceptionally close to it. The exact location is undefined; we have only an approximate area of 20 miles in diameter from the center of Mission City."

The Autobots took a couple of seconds to register this new information, and then Optimus took the initiative into his hands. "Then I believe we shall have to split for the search. Ratchet, you stay here, you will be monitoring the signal and coordinating our moves."

"Yes sir." The medic nodded in acknowledgement.

"Ironhide, you get to search in the northern sector of the area."

"Aye, aye." A roll of a huge gun in Ironhide's arm spoke volumes about his readiness.

"Bumblebee – you get the south-eastern sector."

"Got it sir." The yellow bot shifted on his legs, eager to start the operation.

"I am checking on the south-west," the leader continued. "Keep in touch and report if anything unusual happens. Any questions?"

"Sir?" Jazz's voice sounded hesitant. It was only then that everyone noticed that Optimus' second in command hadn't actually been named.

"Yes, Jazz?" The leader turned to the smallest of the bots.

"Am I getting my orders, sir?" His tension was obvious; the others froze around the two autobots.

Optimus paused before responding. "You are not to assist in the operation this time," he spoke softly, but confidently.

"Why?" Jazz was hurt and confused.

"As much as I value your support and respect your skills, lieutenant, it would be too rushed to throw you into potential danger without your weapons systems and scanners working. It would be better if you stayed behind for now."

Jazz's optics lit up with a blue fire, his fists clenched tightly. His voice rose up a notch when he spoke again. "This is just a search...! I've juz come back online, a'right, and I'm not fully functional yet, but it don't mean I'm useless, Optimus! If I'm not mistaken, I'm still one o' the team, an' I can help!"

It wasn't about subordination and orders anymore; it was about camaraderie and friendship. Ratchet, Ironhide and Bumblebee kept silent at this confrontation, not daring to interfere. The leader of the Autobots was the only one to decide such things, and he now seemed to be in deep thought, contemplating the words of his small by size, but brave at spark friend who more than once laughed in the face of death. Optimus trusted Jazz with his life, but didn't want to take unnecessary risks if they could be avoided…

Jazz held his ground, staring at his leader and silently urging him to give in.

"Alright, Jazz," Optimus finally spoke. "You take the southern sector." The feeling of relief that washed over the rest of the Autobots could not bee seen, but was almost tangible. "If anything – and I mean _anything_ – happens, do not play hero, immediately call for back up. No arguments accepted," he held up his hand dismissively, noting Jazz's intention to say something. "Autobots, transform and roll out!" Optimus' command sounded.

That was all they needed to hear. Metal shifted and clanked. Several seconds later a procession of four vehicles left the base and headed to Mission City.

x-x-x

It was hot on the roads; teems of engines were rumbling in different tones as the traffic moved rather slowly along the crowded streets.

Jazz produced his holo-projection onto his driver's seat so as not to scare the humans around him or attract the attention of the police. That was the last thing they needed right now, problems with the local representatives of law and order. It would endanger their mission, not to mention they'd lose precious time, which they didn't really have because the signal was fading with every passing second.

Since Jazz's revival Ratchet had only had the time and opportunity to repair his basic and most needed radar, so that the silver bot could at least locate the whereabouts of himself and his colleagues in space, and Jazz was thankful to the medic for that. But truth was, his inability to process the surrounding information with his damaged scanners proved to be extremely unnerving, especially now, when he needed it the most. Was this how regular cars felt – empty and unprotected? He mentally laughed at himself. _You're a genius, Jazz, thanks a lot, regular cars don't feel nuthin'. _But he was far from regretting his decision of participating in the search. He was eager to feel helpful, and to generally be back beside his comrades after this offline nightmare, which he didn't want to think about.

As a result, Jazz now didn't have any option other than to concentrate on the soft beeping sounds his one and only radar was producing. He knew that upon their arrival here the others had received the same transmission from Ratchet, who was still stationed at the base. The medic had sent them full characteristics of the signal, and all of the Autobots could now monitor it by themselves. Being quite close to it enabled them to detect it, but they still weren't close enough to find its exact source.

'_Autobots, report your situation,' _Optimus' firm voice requested through their intercoms.

'_Ironhide. Nothing.'_

'_Bumblebee. Nothing.'_

'_Jazz. Nuthin',' _he echoed.

'_Alright, proceed with your search. Prime out.'_

And they did just that. Crossings, turns, eventual voices of 'Hide and Bee reporting to their leader, Jazz's own frustrated responses, Ratchet's assisting remarks… Nothing so far, only a vague presence of the signal.

The silver Pontiac Solstice passed yet another crowded crossing at an agonizingly slow speed. He mentally groaned feeling almost claustrophobic with so many cars around. He was used to vast spaces and fast racing, and he seriously needed some action. So dragging his aft around at a speed of an injured pregnant snail falling asleep on its way was quite irritating.

However, it was good to see Mission City partially repaired after the final battle for the Allspark. This place still looked like a piece of scrap, but generally life here went on like before. He felt pride for his cybertronian and human friends to have won that battle. Of course, he had a good excuse for not having witnessed this glorious moment, but he still wished he'd been able to see it with his own optics…

With such thoughts he took a right turn and… lost the signal.

"Aw, blast," he muttered. This meant that it was rapidly getting weaker, and there wasn't much time left until it would disappear completely. One of them had to find it soon, or their search would be in vain.

Jazz halted seeking for a space in the traffic where he could turn around to get back to his previous path. He flashed his headlights at one of the vehicles so that it let him through, and was given the needed space for the turn. Jazz's holo-projection smiled thankfully to the driver of the other vehicle and followed the smooth whirl of the Pontiac's steering wheel with its hands. If only that guy knew who he really was… he'd probably jump out of his car and run away as fast as his legs would carry him. And that was the reason why Optimus had insisted on the Autobots' secretiveness while on Earth… Well, it didn't really look like they were going to leave Earth anytime soon, Jazz thought with a bitter feeling in his spark. Because now there was nowhere to go.

He came to the same crossing again, but this time he went straight ahead, and was rewarded with a familiar 'beep' as his radar screen came to life again. There appeared to be new details on the signal. According to it he was actually… in the range of sight from it. He kept moving forward, very slowly, until there were no doubts left as to where the source of it was located.

"Gotcha," the bot inwardly smiled.

'_Jazz to Ratchet, c'min.'_

'_Ratchet here, I'm listening.'_

'_The signal seems to be comin' from a vehicle twenty yards down the street from my current location. I can identify it as a… taxi cab. Check the coordinates.' _He made the quick transmission to Ratchet hoping it would be what they were looking for.

There was a brief pause. _'Assumption confirmed, Jazz. You have found it. Any additional data available?'_

'_Negative. With ma' scanners offline I'm kinda sensory blind. A visual contact I've got, but can't give you a picture or nothin' else. It's movin' down the street. Permission to follow?'_

'_Granted. Be careful and make sure you remain unnoticed.'_

'_Who d'you think I am, Ratch?' _Jazz grumbled in a low voice._ 'I may be damaged a bit, but I ain't like, _miss-clocked_, fur Primus' sake.'_

'_I sure hope you are not, lieutenant. Otherwise it would seriously question my medical competence.' _Ratchet stated with a smirk._ 'I am transmitting the data to the others. Ratchet out.'_

Jazz fell back a bit to safely follow the taxi cab without being noticed and quickly calculated the distance to the closest of the Autobots. That appeared to be Bumblebee, and given the speed and directions they were maintaining, they'd cross paths in… 10 minutes and 48 seconds. _Fraggin' traffic jams._

The cab Jazz was now following didn't look strange at all, just a normal car. A wild thought crossed his processor for a second: what if it's a transformer? But he tossed this thought aside as soon as it appeared. Even though his sensors weren't working, his instincts would certainly inform him on such matter, but they kept silent. So the Autobot just followed.

Two minutes later the cab slowed down and pulled over in front of a large building. Jazz repeated its maneuver and parked himself fifteen yards behind it.

'_This is Jazz. The suspected car has stopped near the Paradise Hotel.'_

'_Roger that, Jazz,' _Ratchet's calm voice came._ 'Keep your watch, others are on their way.'_

The silver Pontiac was now staring intently at the vehicle. Five seconds passed, nothing happened. Six. Seven. Eight…

The door of the cab opened, and one slender leg, clad in a black-stocking and high-heeled shoe, came down onto the concrete of the sidewalk. Then the other. A moment later a slim red-haired girl in a short jeans skirt and an oversized jacket (probably belonging to a human male) stepped out of the car, closed the passenger door and just stood in place for several seconds, rubbing her forehead with trembling fingers. Jazz absently noted that she was very upset about something, and seemed not entirely healthy.

The cab still wasn't moving, and the beeping sound remained in place as well. Jazz kept guessing what was sending the signal. Something inside of the cab? Or the car itself? The signal was too weak and too blurred to tell for sure. What should his actions be if it turned out to be dangerous? With at least one human so close and with his weapons absent there really was little he could possibly do, only watch and wait for his fellow bots.

The girl sighed and slowly headed to the front doors of the hotel. The signal beeped once more, lighting up the monitor of Jazz's radar, and then suddenly shifted, moving to the area of…

…the hotel?

'_Err… Ratchet?'_

'_Yes, Jazz?'_

'_I think I've located the exact source of our signal.' _He let out a soft chuckle._ 'An' it's got nice legs, too.'_

**End of Chapter 1 **

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__Miss-clocked - slow and crazy (Cybertronian slang, © __SailorLoon)_

**From Author:** Thanks for reading. Please review! I'll continue with this story if you like it ;)


	2. The Meeting

_**From Author:**__ Finally, here's the second chapter of this story. Big thank you to those of you who found this story interesting enough to send me a comment. You guys really made my day :) Well, comments are something that tells the writer that someone's actually reading. And huge thank you to my beta Kristie, she's wonderful :) Okay, I think I'll stop talking now, on to the story…_

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**Chapter 2 – "The Meeting" **

Seven minutes. That's how long it took Bumblebee and Optimus to get to the Paradise Hotel. This amount of time would be more than enough for Jazz to remember his whole period of functioning. The waiting seemed to take forever. He wished he could run a scan around the area, at least for entertainment if not for the mission… He felt as naked as the moment he'd been spark-ignited.

And bored to disconnection.

He sent a silent prayer to Primus in Ratchet's honor though, thankful to the medical officer for fixing his internet connection program firsthand upon his revival. Actually, Jazz had practically forced the repair bot to fix it. 'I can live without ma' lower regions, doc, but I can't live without music, so ya better hook me up to the web.' So, after the signal had settled somewhere on the sixth floor of the hotel, Jazz checked the list of visitors, verifying the data with the personal files and hoping that the girl didn't go by a fake name. "Rita Grace" was the only one who looked like the female he'd seen earlier.

Jazz transmitted the information he'd found to Optimus and others. To busy his CPU with something he started to analyze the situation. What did that girl carry with herself that sent the impulse? It had to be something small, because he didn't see a bag with her, or anything like that. It had to be small enough to fit in a pocket.

What did humans carry in their pockets?

A quick web-search showed that human pockets normally could contain… well, just about anything. From a watch or writing products, to condoms or tampons, to candy wrappers and chewing gum, it depended on the occasion and personality of the owner. This knowledge didn't help the Autobot in the least, but gave him a couple of amusing minutes before Bumblebee's yellow form showed from behind the corner of the street, followed closely by Optimus.

''_Bout time you showed up, guys. I was already fallin' into stasis,' _Jazz chuckled.

'_Yeah, I see why humans hate traffic jams so much,' _Bumblebee answered with a short laugh.

'_Good job, Jazz,' _Optimus greeted his second in command, but stopped mid-sentence._ 'Ratchet, what has happened to the signal? Do you read it?' _His voice sounded confused.

'_It… disappeared, sir.'_

'_Whatta ya mean "disappeared?"'_ Jazz asked.

'_I am not receiving it anymore,'_ came Ratchet's reply.

'_Same here,' _Ironhide reported, still on his way to the hotel.

'_I lost it too,'_ Bumblebee confirmed.

'_Err… then how come I'm still readin' it?'_ Jazz asked suspiciously.

A long pause followed. _'That is a good question,' _Optimus' voice was carefully blank._ 'Ratchet, can you explain this?'_

'_Uh, no sir. The radar here at the base that I am looking at now has the widest range, and it is supposed to be the first one to read the signal. It is blank now, and if it is not getting the signal, none of us should be getting the signal, including Jazz. It is theoretically impossible.' _

'_Yet he is,' _Optimus pointed out._ 'Maybe some malfunction of Jazz's radar is the cause?'_

'_That is out of the question, sir. No malfunction would enable it to exceed its original capabilities. Unless the data renewal function is damaged. Is the source of the signal moving, Jazz?'_

'_Yeah. The activity is minimal, but it's there.'_

There was another long pause._ 'Alright,' _Optimus delivered his verdict._ 'Then we shall simply have to accept it for the time being.'_

'_Sir?' _Bumblebee called out in concern._ 'I'm reading one Decepticon signature in the area. It's… Barricade.'_ His tone was surprised, which was quite understandable.

'_So he survived, huh? Now _that's _what I call an __impertinent interference with the Autobot business,' _Ironhide grumbled, pulling over near the three other Autobots. Then roared, _'Lemme kick that dumpster's aft, Optimus!_

'_As you were, Ironhide.' _The leader's voice was calm and authoritative, as if nothing in the world could affect him. _'No "kicking" or any other potentially dangerous activity in the direct proximity of humans.'_

'_Oh, c'mon!' _the weapons expert whined. _'I've just tuned my bomb-sight this morning, and I'm pretty sure this canon-babe of mine can take him down with just one _careful_ blast.'_

'_I said no. I do not have any doubts in regards of your aiming capabilities, but we can not risk our secretiveness. Barricade is alone and outnumbered, so if he attempts to harm anyone it will be the last thing he will do. And he is well aware of that. Let him go, the center of the city is not a good place for a fight.'_

'_Urrrgh, these humans are always getting in the way,' _Ironhide rumbled under his breath._ 'Might as well use them as movin' targets. The smaller, the better.'_

'_Ironhide, we do _not_ harm humans!' _Optimus exclaimed in exasperation.

'_I know, I know, just thinkin' aloud,'_ the black Autobot capitulated.

Bumblebee's chuckle sounded through the intercom._ 'More like wishful thinking, 'Hide.'_

'_Uh, guys?' _Jazz cut in._ 'It's all cool, but what're we gonna do now?'_

'_It would appear that the Decepticons have intercepted the signal as well,' _Optimus mused._ 'We do not know if they have the information about the… source yet, but the probability of it is high. Whatever the signal means, we can not allow the Decepticons take control over the situation. Jazz?'_

'_Yes sir?'_

'_Are you still reading the signal?'_

'_Uh, yeah. It's weak, but stable.'_

'_Good. You are assigned to get into close contact with this human female to investigate and protect her until further orders.'_

'_Yes sir,' _Jazz said, but then realized he was unable to protect even himself, let alone anyone else. _'Err… How am I supposed t' do dat, Optimus? I'm… well, kinda not exactly in ma' best condition right now.'_

'_That is why you are to return to the base where Ratchet will repair your weapons systems and scanners. Ratchet, you have two hours for repairs, then Jazz is heading back here.'_

'_Yes sir,_ both Ratchet and Jazz replied.

'_Bumblebee, escort the lieutenant to the base and return as soon as you can incase of a Decepticon attack. There could be more of them in the area.'_

'_Consider it done, sir.'_

'_You may go.'_

The silver Pontiac Solstice and the yellow Chevy Camaro revved their engines and hurriedly left for the base. Well, as hurriedly as the traffic would allow them.

Jazz heard the sound of Optimus hacking into the cell frequencies and making a call. Several seconds later a tired male voice answered with a 'yes?', and the Autobot leader started to speak in his polite manner. _'Mister Michael Weller?_' Another 'yes'. _'I am representing the Neville Assistance Agency of Mission City, and I am calling you on behalf of mister Neville himself…'_

_This is going to be interesting, _Jazz thought

x-x-x

_A family__ truck jumped up a hummock, and she clutched to the seatbelt that was pinning her to the back seat of the car. The green-yellow field drifted by outside the window, the air conditioner barely managing the summer heat._

_She __leaned to the window and, spotting a herd of cows in the distance, pressed her teddy bear to the glass so that he could see it too._

"_Honey, are you hungry?" A woman sitting in the passenger seat turned to her and gave her a warm smile. The woman's green eyes shone with love and happiness. She silently shook her head no and looked at the man who was driving. He sensed her stare, turned his head and gave her a similar smile. "We'll be there by this evening, dear, take a nap if you li-"_

_He didn't get to __finish the sentence. A huge burning mass fell from the sky and landed in the middle of the field, right in front of the car. The force of the collision was enough to dig a huge, deep hole in the ground which shuddered and growled._

_Huge bits of __soil, stone and heated metal hit the truck and crushed its front like a cardboard box. The damaged vehicle was sent flying by the power of the impact. It landed heavily on its roof and rolled across the field like a feather-light toy, leaving a corridor of crumpled grass behind. Turning over several times, it skidded to a halt on one side…_

Rita woke up abruptly and sat up in her bed, breathing heavily. She was covered in a cold sweat and a little disoriented. Glancing around and recognizing the hotel room, the girl groaned and hid her face in the palms of her hands. This same dream haunted her, again and again. And every time waking up she couldn't tell it from reality. It felt so real, so… painful.

"God, I'm so fucked up," she sobbed.

That expression just about wrapped up her entire life.

Before she became Rita she had been nobody. A child without parents, with no relatives or even memories of her past. They called her Jules in the children's home. She hated the name. It was the first thing she got rid of when she left the house of her misery. She used the only true talent she had – her voice – to become a session singer in one of local studios which was a common choice of bands that were just starting out to make a cheap and listenable demo at. And then Michael spotted her, and her life changed. She wasn't nobody anymore. She was a vocalist in a pop-rock band consisting of 'three damn talented guys and one pretty red-haired girl'. A fairy-tale, a dream. Happiness…

It had been like that, until the first attack of dizziness and pain came out of the blue and ended with a deep faint. It happened two months ago. She had always been abnormally healthy, so that episode surprised and disturbed her. But she got really frightened when doctors tried to examine her condition and ended up with broken equipment and a non-optimistic prognosis. Even the most expensive clinics couldn't tell her anything definite, but the symptoms were pointing to the worst. Her body didn't accept antibiotics or any other kind of medicine. Her body was claimed by something unknown, and it was winning the battle against any cure she tried.

During the past two months she had four more attacks of the same kind and managed to come to terms with the concept of death. She wrote a will, which was rather short. She was only twenty, and therefore didn't have anything major to give to others after she's gone. So it was just something along the lines "I leave whatever money I have to Michael, Steve, Don and Bobby in equal parts". Well, a will was a ritual, something dying people normally did, something others would remember them by… Sometimes she watched cars and people in the streets and tried to imagine what life would be like for them when she's not around. _They would go on as if nothing had happened. _It would make her sad, and the next minute she would get angry and promise to herself she would hold on as long as she could. Until the next attack came.

Tonight drew a line in her mind. It was fine, almost invisible, but it changed everything. Because she didn't really care anymore. No point in being frightened, or pitying herself. She had to _live_ while she could. There wouldn't be another chance for that.

Rita sighed and looked at her watch. It was 11 pm. A glance at her cell phone showed there were no calls or messages. This was expected, because she had called Michael upon her arrival at the hotel from the hospital and informed him that she was okay and going to sleep and that she didn't want anyone to disturb her unless they had a damn good reason.

She wasn't sleepy anymore, and generally she felt better, though still a bit tired. She took a long hot shower, enjoying every second of it; then dried her hair, did a light makeup and sat down on the bed. She had two options: poker game or a drive around the city. She didn't really feel like doing either, but it was better than just sitting here alone.

Rita fished out a penny from somewhere inside of her duffel bag. Heads – drive, tails – poker. The coin flew up and hung in mid-air for a second like a small transparent sphere. It landed with a clear clanging sound and rolled across the floor, falling flat near her bare feet.

_Liberty_, Rita read, staring down as if in thought.

"A drive it is then," she murmured, getting a pair of jeans and a grey blouse out of the same bag. It was good to have everything you need in one place, she thought absently.

She dressed quickly and looked at herself in the mirror, noticing dark circles around her eyes and the paleness of the skin.

"You could get a leading part in a horror movie in an instant, my dear," she smirked humorlessly and left the room. She wasn't that famous to be afraid for her life. So, even though it would give Michael a heart attack, she was planning to catch a taxi cab and get to a local rental car place. Rita wanted to spend the rest of the night just driving around and listening to a good music.

Music was something that never changed, that had always been with her and never betrayed her. Something she had faith in, unconditionally. Well, even if she was going to die, at least she had a job she really enjoyed, and it was more than many people had. So it wasn't that bad after all.

A cool breeze tangled in her hair as she stepped out of the hotel into the night. Sounds of traffic and a sea of neon lights around told her that night life was stirring up the city.

She made her way to the road, but never got to lift her hand up.

"Miss Grace?" She heard a smooth voice calling out to her and reflexively turned in its direction.

A silver Pontiac Solstice was parked several feet from where she was standing. Leaning lazily against the passenger door there stood a young black man, seemingly in his mid-twenties. His pose was relaxed, arms crossed on his chest. He was about 5'9" and well built. Short raven hair in a picturesque mess, straight nose, an expressive line of lips. He was dressed in loose grey pants, black sneakers and a white sleeveless t-shirt that clung to his defined torso like a second skin. Black V-shaped mirrored sunglasses completed an incredibly cool, hot and aggressive image.

Rita stared dumbly at him in silence. Not waiting for her answer and obviously satisfied by having the girl's undivided attention, the man inclined his head forward a bit, glanced at her above the rim of his shades with astoundingly blue eyes and smiled mischievously. "Nice to meet ya. Ma' name's Jack. I'm gonna be your assistant."

**End of Chapter 2 **

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_**From Author:** Thanks for reading. Please, review ;)_


	3. Autobot Undercover

_**A/N:** First of all, thank you to everyone who posted their comments on this story! People, you seriously rock my world and inspire me to keep writing. Secondly, I apologize for not posting for so long. The reason of it is that while writing the first two chaps I kept coming up with ideas that seemed better than the original ones. And I had to change the plot a bit, which took some considerable thinking through. Also, my beta was really busy lately. I hope you'll like this chapter. Enjoy :)_

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_**Chapter **__**3 – "Autobot Undercover"**_

Rita stared at the young black man in awe for a minute before repeating doubtfully, "My… assistant?"

"Tha'z right," he nodded in confirmation and finally took his sunglasses off, giving her another smile and a good view of his face. "Any problems w'that, miss?"

"Uh," she blinked, trying to decide what it was all about and if she should fear this strange man. Or maybe ask questions, or something. She squinted her eyes at him in mistrust. "Actually I wasn't expe-" The girl was interrupted by the loud ringing of her cell phone. "Excuse me," she mumbled and pressed the dial button, turning slightly away from the man, but keeping him in sight. "Yes, Michael."

"_Rita? Are you all right?"_

"Yeah, I'm fine. But there's this strange guy here stating that he's going to be my 'assistant'. Did you send him? What the _hell_'s all this 'assistance' about?" She hissed into the phone demandingly as she threw a suspicious gaze in Jack's direction. The man in question shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and was now looking away pointedly, whistling some tune and ignoring the discussion he was clearly the subject of.

"_Rita, please calm down,"_ Michael spoke soothingly over the phone. _"You told me not to disturb you for a couple of hours, so I'm telling you this now. I got a call not long ago from Neville Assistance Agency. NAA offers its services, and quite qualified ones, to the guests of Mission City. This whole 'assistance' thing concerns personal safety, transportation/escort and even sightseeing twenty-four/seven should the client have such a desire. In other words, they solve any problems you might have while visiting the city. This service is not a cheap one, but mister Neville happens to be an admirer of your band, and he is doing this for you by his own volition, as a deed of gift. His representative assured me he would send one of their best men, and I thought that considering the… circumstances… you might need one."_ The last words were spoken softly, almost murmured, as if Michael didn't want to bring the subject up, but had to.

Rita rubbed her forehead with her free hand; she couldn't find anything to say.

"_Come on, Rita,"_ Michael pressed and pleaded at the same time. _"I'll feel more at ease if I know that a pro is keeping an eye on you."_

She tried to imagine someone 'keeping an eye' on her. Following her everywhere, being her shadow, and generally invading her privacy… Not a pleasant perspective. But what choice did she have? Michael had been really frightened by her faint earlier that evening, and knowing him she could say he would have this assistant-guy following her anyway, so she might just make it easier for all of them. "All right," she said, already feeling the sting of regret but ignoring it.

"_Good," _Michael exclaimed with satisfaction. _"His name is Jack, he is African-American with blue eyes and a silver Pontiac Solstice. Does that fit the description?"_

"Yeah," Rita chuckled. "He's one of a kind. So I'm going for a long ride with a pro who's gonna accompany me to bathroom to make sure that little me doesn't get flushed down the toilet. Don't expect me till morning."

"_A little fun would be good for you, but please, keep in touch, Rita. You know that I and the boys will be worried about you anyway."_

"Yes, I know. And yes, I will," she smiled. "Bye, Michael."

Flipping her cell phone closed she turned to Jack who abandoned his relaxed pose and opened the passenger door for her with casual grace and ease. "Shall we?" he asked, giving her a wink and thus eliciting a small smile from Rita despite her attempt to hold it back.

The girl got in the car watching her 'assistant' walk around its front and get to the driver's seat. Jack barely touched the keys in the ignition, and the engine purred like a giant cat.

"Blast on something good, Jack," the girl asked, making herself comfortable in the warm leather of the seat.

"Ma' pleasure, Miss Grace," he replied with a white-teethed smile, putting his shades back on. She was surprised when the next second the radio started switching through the stations by itself until it settled on a hip-hop tune with beautiful, dramatic strings and deep male voices singing repeatedly to swinging rhythm and changing harmonies:

_Hier kommt die __Neue Deutsche Welle, Deutsche Welle…_

This guy definitely knew what 'good' meant in music. As the car pulled away from the hotel, the low rumble of its powerful engine went through Rita's body and noticeably corrected her concept of 'good', giving it a totally different meaning.

_Maybe __it all won't be that bad after all_, she thought, smiling tiredly and letting herself relax finally.

x-x-x

The Pontiac Solstice rolled unhurriedly down the illuminated streets. The Camaro followed it at the respectful distance.

'_Jazz?'_ Bumblebee called out.

'_Not now, Bee_ the silver bot cut his attempt to hear the news, the main reason of it being the actual lack of any news.

Jazz glanced at the girl in his passenger seat from the corner of his eye. She wasn't really excited by the night view of the city outside the windows. He could tell she was deep in her thoughts – absent stare and tired posture would give a clue to anyone. She looked so small and defenseless, so fragile… In fact, all humans looked like that, but there was a strange tinge of… sadness and loss about this tiny girl. Even the music pouring through the speakers and filling his interior couldn't cover the loud empty silence that she was emanating.

"Ya had a bad day, miss?" he asked cautiously, trying to sound matter-of-factly and not too prying.

Rita sighed and looked at him for a second, then turned away again. "I guess it could be worse." She paused. "I'll live."

A bitter smile that touched her lips after these words made him tense for some reason. Jazz hid his concern away and smiled at Rita. "Ya'd better. I'll personally make sure of that, Miss Grace," he said solemnly and, lifting his glasses up for a second, gave her a playful wink. He was rewarded with a tiny, almost unnoticeable quirk of lips from the girl.

"It's Rita," she corrected him.

"Okay, Miss Rita," he nodded maintaining his solemn tone.

"Just Rita is fine, thank you," she said and made a soft chuckle.

"Gotcha… Rita," he grinned warmly.

_So the ice cracked_, he thought with satisfaction in his spark.

"Nice car," she suddenly said, changing the subject. The next thing she did made Jazz choke on his mirth and stop breathing for a moment. Rita's small hands started caressing the leather of his interior, the handle of the passenger door, the dashboard…

"Uh… thanks," Jazz said, hoping she didn't notice the strain in his voice. These words sounded as if he was thanking the human female for petting him. He almost laughed at the thought, but had to bite his lip to stop the moan that was threatening to escape him.

'_Jazz, how's it going?'_ Bumblebee's anxious request came to him again.

_Ah, slag_ was his only thought. This time he couldn't ignore his partner, so he reported the best way he could.

'_Good… Uh… I've successfully in-… infiltrated, so to speak,' _he forced out the response, feeling kind of proud for managing so many words. Rita's casual and unexpectedly gentle touches effectively got his engine stuttering for a second before he could collect himself and calm down a bit.

"Problems with the car?" Rita asked, frowning. "It moves kind of… jerkily." She squeezed the door handle with her palm, running her thumb over it in circles unconsciously.

Jazz mentally cursed. "N- nope, the car's a'ight." He shook his head once and forced out a shaky smile.

'_Are you okay? You sound funny,' _Bumblebee asked in concern.

_Primus hates me_, the silver bot thought miserably.

'_Yeah, yeah, I'm… I'm fine.__ And currently tryin' ta… ta _communicate_ with her.' _Jazz was starting to get irritated by his loss of control over the situation._ 'Gimme some space here, buddy, will ya?'_

Rita chose this moment to finally stop tormenting Jazz's sensors with her fumbling, and he thanked the ashes of the Allspark for the opportunity to breathe normal again.

'_Okay, okay,' _Bumblebee spoke peacefully._ 'Just tell me how's the signal?'_

'_It's here, she's sendin' it, but it doesn't seem she's aware of it.'_

'_Did you check her belongings and find the source?'_

'_N__o, didn' have an opportunity yet.'_

'_We need to know as soon as possible, Jazz. Ratchet says we probably don't have much time till the Decepticons make their move. Check her clothes.'_

Was it just him, or did the whole world suddenly decide to turn his life into a piece of scrap?

'_Geez,__ man, are ya missin' a bolt in yer head? I can't do it right now while drivin'! Besides, it's kinda hard ta do when yer holo-projector is barely workin'.'_

"Jack, are you okay?" Rita asked in concern, noticing his long silence.

"What?" he snapped out of his dreamy state. His outer sensors looked his own hologram up and down. He had the stupidest expression possible on his human face. _Way ta go, Jazz,_ he scolded himself. He had to act normal to keep his cover, but so far things didn't go as smooth as he'd hoped.

'_Look__, Bee, I need ta take some part in the conversation here. I'll tell ya if I find anythin'.'_

Jazz shut the connection out and smiled to the girl trying to look like a pro that he certainly was. "Yeah, I'm perfect. Did ya say somethin'?"

x-x-x

Starscream's red optics staring down at Barricade lit up and dimmed again, making his gaze lazily vicious. The Mustang silently stood up from his kneeling position.

"Did you find it, Barricade?" The jet's voice echoed from the steel walls of Nemesis as if it was everywhere around the big room.

"Yes, Starscream," the black and white mech replied. "With some help of the Autobots – they did all the dirty work and led me right to the source. It's a human female. I'm almost positive that her name is Rita Grace."

"I want you to bring her to me," Starscream ordered.

The smaller decepticon shifted on his legs, the metal of his feet thudding dully on the steel floor. "The signal is lost for unknown reason, Starscream. But Frenzy is working on this problem," he quickly added.

Starscream laughed quietly. Then exploded into a roar, "Then _what_ in the name of Matrix are _you_ doing here instead of trying to find the human?!"

"The Autobots saw me, and their intentions obviously didn't include allowing me to get near her," Barricade let the sarcastic note show in his deep voice.

"We need this human, dead or alive," the decepticon leader growled. "Though alive would be better, maybe she knows something. Do you understand me, Barricade?"

"Yes, Starscream. I have someone following the female for now. They won't get attention of the Autobots and will try to capture her if the opportunity presents."

"And what if they fail?" Starscream demanded.

"That's why Frenzy is building an electro-magnetic enhancer. It is almost finished; it only needs to be set to the specific frequency. Once it is done, the enhancer will be able to pick up the signal again. And then we'll track the human down. But in that case we'll have to confront the Autobots."

"Good…" The jet paused. "Keep me informed on your every step. Dismissed."

x-x-x

The drive had already lasted for half an hour, but Jazz's investigation hadn't moved an inch. The human in his passenger seat was emanating the signal, but he knew just as much about it as he did when Ratchet had sent him its characteristics. Which was almost nothing. Optimus gave him instructions to try and find something out without exposing his real personality to the human female in order to keep her out of trouble. So the silver bot decided that the best way to do it would be just talking and learning more about his charge.

"So ya like cars, huh?" he asked the girl conversationally.

"Yeah… I think that a good car is worth admiring. This one is… beautiful," she said and petted the leather of her seat again.

Jazz laughed and quickly covered it with a cough. "I'm glad ya like him. An' I can assure ya he likes ya, too," the corners of the bot's lips twitched. Yeah, he liked her a lot, especially her hands.

A surprise was evident in Rita's features. "It's a 'he'?"

"Definitely," Jazz nodded and grinned fully. "He's my alter-ego." Technically, it wasn't a lie, for obvious reasons.

Rita stared at him strangely, then snorted – and then, for the first time that night, he heard her quiet laugh. It was good to hear that sound from a person who had been depressed not long ago. It gave him a sense of satisfaction and stirred up the urge to keep that smile on the girl's beautiful face.

"So your boss has decided to make a gift to me and my guys?" Rita looked at Jazz, lifting one eyebrow. The bot could tell that this question had been tormenting her for some time.

"Yeah, he likes yer band," he confirmed. Technically, that wasn't a lie either. Optimus liked all humans, including Rita and her bandmates, even if he didn't know them personally. "I haven't heard yer songs, but I trust ma' boss' judgment."

"Well, you could come to our show tomorrow if you'd like," Rita suggested.

Jazz looked at her for a moment and then turned his attention to the road again. "I'll try ta be there, thanks," he nodded with a smile. "Ya see, I love music, it makes me crazy," he smirked.

"Believe me, I know what you mean," she let out a chuckle. "I'm hungry, Jack. D'you know a good place to eat?"

"I've got one in mind," he drawled righting the sunglasses on his face, another smirk twitching his lips. Quick web-search told him of a suitable café-bar just around the corner.

'_Bee, c'min.'_

'_I'm here, Jazz.'_

'_She's hungry, we're stopping at the café-bar "Midnight." Watch out for the 'cons, partner.'_

'_Got it. Watch your back.'_

'_I will.'_

Jazz closed the connection and pulled over near one-story building that was awash with blue neon lights. The parking lot was full of cars, but no humans could be seen around. Jazz turned off the radio and let his hologram step out to the ground.

Now it was going to be a bit tough from then on. Yes, he looked perfectly human, but wasn't real. That meant he couldn't touch anything. Well, except for metal. His magnets were the only means of interaction with surrounding world: opening the car doors and similar actions.

He was going to open the door for Rita, like his position towards her required, but the girl did it herself and got out of the passenger side, stopping for a second to read the neon sign.

"They're famous for their cappuccino," he smiled and led the way, Rita following not far behind.

Jazz was several yards from the entrance to the café-bar when a sense of danger along with a sound of a large car engine brought him to alert.

He felt Rita's squeak rather than heard it. Whirling around he saw a man clad in black dragging the girl to an equally black van. The man was tall, slightly taller than Jazz, and built. One of the man's hands gripped Rita's waist firmly, the other one was tangled in her hair, hurting the girl and preventing her from trying to escape. A second man who looked similar was behind the steering wheel of the van, apparently waiting for his partner to get the girl inside. There was no sign of Bumblebee anywhere. All of this Jazz noted within a nano-second.

Transforming was out of question. Blowing his cover, as well as that of the Autobots', wasn't among his immediate wishes. But Rita's safety was Optimus' direct order to him and one of his highest priorities…

The decision was made faster than Ironhide could say 'slag'. A gun appeared in his hand. "Stop right there, buddy, an' I won't have ta hurt ya," he spoke calmly, but menacingly, taking off his shades. The tone of the bot's voice didn't promise anything good. The gun was just as much a sham as Jazz's holo-body, but the criminal didn't need to know that. It should be enough to at least make him listen and stop him from taking Rita away until Bumblebee's arrival.

'_Bee, we've got a situation,' _Jazz called out simultaneously._ 'Two humans are tryin' to capture Rita. Get yer aft here, now.'_

'_On my way. Twenty seconds.'_

The man immediately stopped and glanced at Jazz, then at the gun. He smiled the way that only really crazy people can. His right arm left Rita's waist, and Jazz saw a knife flash in his palm, the other hand pulling at the girl's hair, making her whimper and expose her throat involuntarily. The other man got out of the car and also produced a knife from his pocket, but didn't seem to know what to do in this situation.

For a moment none of them moved. Then Jazz made a careful step forward. "Don't do anythin' stupid. Put that knife down an' let 'er go," he said, moving towards the man slowly, the gun trained on him. The criminal squeezed his fingers in Rita's hair again in response. The girl hissed in pain, Jazz froze.

"Stay back," the man warned darkly and pressed the cold blade to her skin, his black burning gaze glued to Jazz and following his every move. Rita locked her eyes with Jazz's icy blues. He could see her fear and could almost feel her panic. From the corner of his eye Jazz saw the second criminal – he was nervously shifting on his feet and throwing glances to his partner. These little gestures indicated that he wasn't really a threat; he'd rather run than fight. Good.

"Easy, man. Put the toy away," Jazz spoke to the man that was holding Rita and risked another step. The girl suddenly gasped in shock as the knife cut the skin on her neck just slightly and drew blood. Rita's hands grabbed her captor's right arm instinctively, but released it quickly in fear of being hurt more. Jazz's spark pulsed with anger and he stilled again, clenching his jaw.

A familiar growl of engine and the screeching of tires announced Bumblebee's appearance. _Thank Primus!_

The unexpected sounds distracted both men. It was enough for Jazz. He moved at lightning speed. In a blink of an eye he was near the man that held Rita. Jazz stretched his left arm in front of him, reaching for the knife. His right hand flew up towards the criminal's left ear, which was pierced with an earring. A jolt of magnetic impulse ran through Jazz's hands and pulled both items abruptly, disarming the man and tearing his flesh. His agonized cry assaulted the bot's audio receptors, but it led to the desired result: the man was clutching at his bleeding ear and Rita was free. She fell to the ground and was probably in mild pain, but out of danger.

Jazz saw a flash of yellow and black to his right and knew that Bumblebee's hologram joined the fight and handled the second man. The blonde ducked swiftly from the dash of a knife and delivered a perfect hook to his opponent's jaw, sending him to the ground. The two human males wouldn't stand a chance even against Jazz alone, who wasn't material; but with another – solid – Autobot's help they were simply doomed.

Jazz's enemy finally released his torn ear and advanced at him, snarling. The bot moved to the side and dived forward, reaching for his enemy at the same time. The next second he locked the metal bracelet on the man's right hand with his magnetic field and jerked the limb up, then forward and down in a circular motion, toppling the criminal over and throwing him to the ground on his back. The man's body landed on the pavement heavily, its owner groaning in pain.

The man who was beaten by Bumblebee collected himself from the ground and helped his partner up, half-dragging him to the van. A second later the black vehicle hastily left the parking lot and disappeared into traffic.

Jazz looked at Bumblebee. The blonde hologram gave him thumbs-up and vanished into the shadows, leaving the silver Autobot with the girl.

'_I'll be around if you need me,'_ Bee sent through the intercom.

'_A'ight, partner. Report the situation to Optimus, I've got things ta do here,'_ Jazz replied and turned to Rita. She was sitting on the ground, looking with numb fascination at her fingers smeared with blood. Jazz scanned her immediately and felt relief at the absence of serious damage. Several scratches on her palms, bruises on her knees – and a little cut on her throat, not really dangerous. No big deal. But still she was frightened.

"Rita, it's okay now, yer safe," Jazz spoke softly, squatting in front of her and trying to see her face. It was obscured by a shock of tangled red hair. Having the slagging jerk's paw in it must have been painful. She was silent, and he leaned forward seeking her gaze. "Rita? Look at me," he asked.

She finally lifted her eyes to him. An angry stare. Hard and intense. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she angrily wiped it away, spreading dirt and blood over her frowning face. But she didn't make a sound. Such combination of emotions surprised and startled him. He wished he could touch her, or embrace her – anything. Suggest any kind of physical comfort. But he couldn't.

"Let's go ta the car, girl," Jazz said gently. He didn't want her to go anywhere far from his metallic body. And they had to talk about what had just happened.

Surprisingly, she listened to his words without question and silently went to the silver car. This time Jazz followed her closely.

_**End of Chapter 3**_

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_Music used: Fler – __"Neue Deutsche Welle 2005"_

_**A/N:** It was a great fun to write this chapter. Finally, some action :) More of it will come in the nearest future. Meanwhile, please review and tell me if you liked it or not. A big comment or just a couple of words – I appreciate everything. Be safe, and till next chap._


	4. Mayday

**_A/N:_**_ Thank you to everyone who are still reading this story and leaving their reviews/comments. You are the best! I know I'm a slow writer (you probably have already noticed that). And also it's not easy for me because English is not my native language, so everything I write requires the approval of my beta Kristie (she's a super-hero, I'm infinitely grateful to her), and we are both quite busy in real life, so… I know it doesn't lessen my guilt, but it sort of explains such long pauses between the chapters. I just hope you are enjoying it as much as I do :) P.S. For those who wondered where the hell the two guys in black came from in the previous chapter – I hope this chap makes it a bit clearer. _

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**_Chapter 4 – "Mayday" _**

Rita embraced herself with her arms, trying to occupy as little space as she could in the passenger seat of the silver Pontiac Solstice. She was cold and scared; she felt small, weak and filthy – a horrible mix of feelings. She didn't care where the car was moving, as long as it was away from the café-bar " Midnight."

"Hey there," Jack said softly. "Speak ta me, girl."

_Girl_, she repeated to herself. The word was supposed to express either familiarity, or affection. Nobody had ever called her that. She simply never allowed it.

She glanced at Jack and noted that he looked absolutely unaffected by what had happened a mere five minutes ago. His sleeveless t-shirt was as brilliantly white as ever. His hands were just as clean and steady on the steering wheel. Nothing gave out that he had just engaged in a street fight with guns and knives. Rita, on the contrary, was dirty and bloody, and the state of her hair and clothes left much to be desired. How in the world could she get herself in such a trouble?

When she didn't respond Jack looked at her with concern in his blue eyes. Since the attack he never put his sunglasses back on, giving her careful glances from time to time.

"Okay, Rita, I need ya ta answer some questions if ya don' mind," he said, trying another approach. She didn't feel like talking, so she just stayed silent. But Jack continued nonetheless. "D'you have reasons ta be afraid of someone? Enemies?... Offended boyfriends?"

Now _that_ got her reaction. "I'm afraid that is none of your business," she snapped angrily, the defensive instinct finally kicking in. She felt like a little clam trying to lock in its shell from the outer world. An attempt to keep some grasp over her life that was rolling down the hill like a car without brakes.

He winced, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was hurt. "I'm juz tryin' to help ya here. It's ma' mission ta protect ya, Rita. The more I know, the better I can accomplish that."

She immediately felt a sting of guilt for yelling at him. _Way to be grateful for being saved_, she scolded herself. "I'm sorry, Jack, it's just…" Rita trailed off, finding her dirty palms very interesting all of a sudden.

"It's okay," she heard him say soothingly after a moment. "I won't let anythin' happen to ya. But I need yer help, too."

Rita didn't answer. She knew this man for only a couple of hours, and already she was used to his presence. It was illogical, but she felt strangely protected in this car, and she was sure he wouldn't go anywhere if danger came from around a corner – and not just because of his work, or money, or his boss' music preferences. Somehow she found herself actually _believing_ his promise. A strange experience for a person who'd been alone for their entire life and who's used to rely solely upon themselves…

Rita suddenly noticed that her hands are shaking. It was rather annoying, so she clenched her fists in her lap to keep some dignity, even if it was only on the outside. "I don't know of anyone who would want to harm me," Rita answered at last, shaking her head pensively.

Jack thought for a minute before asking the next question. "Did anythin' strange happen ta ya recently?"

She couldn't help laughing bitterly at that, and Jack's piercing blue eyes shot to her face again in confusion.

"Apart from having a strange disease and almost being kidnapped?" She shrugged and lifted her hands up helplessly. "No, absolutely nothing." She shook her head again and gritted her teeth in sudden anger, folding her hands on her chest. No, she wasn't angry with Jack, she was just… angry.

"Disease?" Jack repeated, frowning. "What kind?"

"I wish _somebody_ could tell me that," she replied sarcastically. "But all I hear is 'I'm sorry, Miss Grace, there is nothing we can do.' Isn't there _anything_ I can control in my life anymore...?" She asked, addressing to no one in particular, then added quietly in disbelief, "Why am I even telling you all this?" Just a minute ago she'd been collected and reserved. She didn't know why she burst up all of a sudden, and it angered her even more.

A silence filled the car.

"A'ight. Turn yer pockets inside out," Jack suddenly said as if having come to some kind of conclusion.

"What?!" Rita asked, stunned. Was it a robbery of some kind, or what?

"Questions later, Rita. Now I juz need ya ta do that. Please," he added looking at her with seriousness she didn't think he possessed.

She stared at the man for several seconds, trying to understand what the hell was going on. Then, with a frown and a sigh of surrender, she wordlessly reached into her pockets and started getting what she could find there out and putting it on the dashboard for her 'assistant's' inspection.

"Everythin'. I need ta see _all_ ya got there," Jack urged glancing at the items she was producing: a wallet with several hundred US dollars, a cell phone, a chewing gum, a guitar pick, a piece of paper with unfinished lyrics, a key-card from the hotel room, a candy wrapper, a hair band… Having cleaned her pockets she sat back, embracing herself with her hands again demonstratively.

Jack eyed the small pile for a second or two and turned huge eyes to Rita. "Slag," he said under his breath, turning away. "This is fraggin' impossible."

Then he fell silent, but the silence was charged, it was tense and filled with some meaning she couldn't quite understand. Rita found herself unable to break it. She looked at the dashboard dumbly. As strange and funny as the situation was, she didn't feel like laughing at all. What was that phrase of his supposed to mean? She'd never heard such words before, but the way they'd been said gave her a strong impression that those were swearing words. What could possibly make this cool and polite guy swear? Her almost-kidnapper with a knife had frightened her, but the lost expression on her bodyguard's face frightened her even more.

They rode in silence for several minutes. "Where are we going?" Rita heard herself ask quietly.

"To the Paradise Hotel," Jack replied shortly and a bit absently, as if he was somewhere else in his thoughts. Whatever he was thinking about, she decided to just drop the matter for the time being. She'd ask questions later. And he'd answer all of them.

x-x-x

On their way to the hotel Jazz was weighing the situation and speaking to Optimus.

_'Sir, I think I need your help on my investigation.' _

_'I am listening, lieutenant. What is the problem?' _

_'The problem is… well, the human female _is_ the signal, sir… Don't ask, I don't know how it's possible, but her body _is_ the source.' _

There was a confused silence on the other end of the com link. Jazz wished he could see Optimus' face at that moment. The leader must be looking pretty stunned.

_'An' another thing, sir. It looks like she has some kinda disease that could be deadly. At least human medics couldn't fix it… I think Ratchet's assistance is needed.' _

_'I shall send Ratchet to you right away, Jazz… But I am afraid we shall have to transport Rita to the base nonetheless.' _

That was a tough decision for Prime, and Jazz knew it. Every human aware of their presence on Earth was a potential threat to them as long as there were Decepticons left on this planet, so the Autobots avoided any new contacts with civilians. But this case seemed to leave them no other options.

_'Yes sir,' _Jazz acknowledged._ 'We're headin' to the Paradise Hotel right now. She'll get what she needs there an' I and Bumblebee will get her to the base.' _

The hotel came into view, and Jazz closed the link.

As they pulled over at the vast parking lot Rita seemed to wake up from her torpor and started to awkwardly rake up her belongings from his dashboard into her palms. For some reason the sight made him sad. He wished one of those little things was the source of her problems, not her own body. He wished she was out of all this mess. But there was nothing he could do, and moreover, he had an order now.

His holo-projection got out of his car-form and gestured for Rita who had also left his seat to go inside. The girl went to the front doors; Jazz followed. She entered the hall and made her way to elevators. They didn't say a word to each other on their way to the fifth floor.

They stepped out of the elevator in silence and went down the corridor to Rita's room. She unlocked the door with a key-card, but before she could enter Jazz stopped her with a gesture. He was the first to come in, scanning the room for unwelcome presences, bugs, cameras and dangerous devices.

While he was busy Rita had spotted her reflection in the mirror and immediately forgot about everything else. "Oh my God," she murmured and disappeared in the bathroom. A couple of seconds later she came back with a box of Kleenex in her hands. She took one tissue out, dropped the box onto the bed and began cleaning her face, looking into the mirror and throwing occasional glances at Jazz. "So…" she started. "You wanna do some explaining?"

"I will." Jazz turned to his charge. "But right now I need ya ta pack yer things. We're leavin'."

Rita froze. "Excuse me?" She lifted one brow.

"We're leavin'," Jazz repeated patiently.

She stood there for a moment in awe, and then resumed the cleaning process. "I hate to disappoint you, Jack, but I'm not going anywhere."

Jazz shook his head. He knew it wasn't going to be easy. "I'm afraid it's in yer best interests, girl."

"I said I'm not going anywhere," Rita turned around pointing her finger at him. "And stop calling me that."

"Callin' ya what?" Jazz asked in confusion.

"'Girl.' I'm not your girl, babe, or anything of that kind. I'm Rita. And stop ordering me around!" Her posture screamed of challenge. She was nervous.

Jazz mentally cursed. All the easiness they'd managed to come to had evaporated. "Look, Rita, it's not a good time for arguin'. Yer life is at stake. Please, start packin'."

"_My_ life has long been at stake, that's not news to me," She didn't want to listen. "And it's not like I can disappear into nowhere with you, I need to play a show tomorrow… pardon me, it's today!" She pointed at the clock on the wall that showed 2 am. Jazz sighed in exasperation. How was he supposed to make her cooperate now? _Optimus will kill me._

"Rita, we _have_ to go," he repeated, unconsciously making a step towards her.

"Oh really?" The girl echoed incredulously, instinctively stepping back. "Over my dead body!" She crumpled the tissue in her hand and threw it at Jazz.

He was too surprised to react. The paper ball touched the surface of his holo-projection, making it shimmer and glow, then flew through him and landed on the floor behind his back.

Rita gasped and closed her mouth with her hand in shock, then sank onto the bed, all the while staring at him with wild eyes.

_Oh, blast. _

On one hand, it made the explanation easier. But on the other hand, it did frighten her. All he could do to lessen that effect was offer her a smile, though he didn't think it would help much.

What she did next was really strange. She blindly felt the bed for the box of Kleenex with her free hand, took one out, crumpled it – and threw the little ball at him again. It flew through his holo and rolled across the floor before stopping beside the previous one. Two sets of eyes followed it then Jazz turned to the girl again.

"Hey, that wasn't too polite of ya, y'know," he said in an offended, but light tone. Rita only stared at him with huge eyes.

"I don't think I'd be wrong if I said I had a theory that you are by no means working for NAA, you are not Jack, and you are not my 'assistant', huh?" she said slowly and quietly.

He'd been expecting _any_ reaction, but not this. Such a slagflow of words in a situation like this could match one of Ratchet's fits of medic-talk.

So Jazz laughed, in a low, hearty manner. He couldn't help it. Rita kept glaring at him, sitting on the bed and obviously not sharing his joy, and that made him gain some seriousness again. "The name's Jazz," he nodded as if introducing himself anew. "Yer theory's right. I'm not working for NAA. But I'll have ya know that the assistance part is actually true. I'm here ta guard ya, Rita."

"So you're… my guardian angel from above, or what?" She asked disbelievingly in a helpless attempt to give it all a somewhat reasonable explanation, eyeing him from head to toe.

The choice of words confused and amused Jazz. The internet told him what she was referring to. "Not in the sense you humans are used ta interpret the term. But yer relatively close." Seeing Rita take a defensive posture with her legs drawn to her body Jazz held his hands up in a universal peaceful gesture so that she could see them and hurried to explain. "I'm a sentient robot from planet Cybertron, and I serve under command of Optimus Prime, the Leader of Autobots." He sounded almost like Prime himself, and it was slightly disturbing. Was he getting old?

"God, it seems you've blessed me with insanity before the end of my miserable life," Rita mumbled into space and covered her dirty face with both of her palms.

Rita was the first human Jazz had ever had to talk to about this. He had no idea how this kind of conversation should take place, so he just decided to settle her doubts on her mental health to start with. "Yer not insane, Rita, an' yer not seein' things," he said. "An' I ain't tryin' ta play a joke on ya here."

After some time she lifted her weary gaze to him again. It looked like she was fighting an inner battle.

"You… kinda look like a normal guy," Rita finally said in a strangely flat voice making a vague gesture in his general direction.

"Why, thanks," he smiled looking down at himself. He liked to think he had succeeded in blending in to Earth culture. "But it's just ma' holographic projection. Ya've seen ma' main form, it's a Pontiac Solstice." Jazz pointed somewhere behind his back with his thumb for emphasis.

"Jesus," she whispered running her hand through her hair. "Don't tell me you're a car."

"It's Jazz actually. An' I ain't a car!" Jazz exclaimed with indignation. "Well, I am, but it's only one o' ma' modes. The primary one is a robot mode." Now she was looking at him like _he_ was insane. "Ya know… two arms, two legs… a head… an' all that stuff," he suggested helpfully so that she could better understand what "robot" meant.

She shook her head mutely, then stood up from the bed, made several steps and stopped in the middle of the room as if lost, her gaze roaming around without purpose. Jazz could tell she was "processing the data", so to speak. Well, they all had something to process. After all, none of the Autobots expected that the source of the signal would be the human girl herself.

Rita combed through her hair with her fingers again and suddenly cringed in disgust. It's then when Jazz noticed dried blood in her red locks; it had been invisible in the streetlights.

"Is it yours?" Frowning in concern he quickly approached her and reached out a hand reflexively.

Rita winced and shook her head slightly, and for a moment he thought it was a request not to come close or touch her. Not that he could, in this state… But she countered his assumptions by saying, "No, it's… probably h- _his_." Rita winced again in disgust. Jazz's tension was relieved, both from the knowledge that he wasn't the reason of that emotion and that it wasn't her blood. Of course. It belonged to that guy with the torn ear. _Served the glitch right for hurtin' a female._

"I think I need a shower," Rita said quietly, her eyes avoiding Jazz. What was she hiding? Or was she afraid of him now that his true identity was revealed? If the last was true, he could do nothing about it but give her some time to adjust to the flood of new information. Though, he had to admit, so far she'd been taking it all better than most of her kind would have in her place.

"A'ight," Jazz agreed just as quietly. "But not too long, we need ta go soon. And don't lock the door, okay?"

Surprising him yet another time that night, Rita nodded silently and took a spare shirt and a pair of jeans from her duffel bag, heading to the bathroom. The last revelation seemed to put an end to their argument. Jazz followed her with his eyes until the bathroom door closed behind her softly.

He heaved a sigh of relief.

_'Hit me with the news, Bee,'_ the bot said through the com link. Bumblebee had always been the one who got the information, and that was what they needed the most right now.

_'The fingerprints I'd scanned from the knives the criminals had dropped back on the street belong to members of a well-organized terrorist group. According to Captain Lennox, it is probably based somewhere in the desert. The van they used had no license plate, they must have hijacked it.' _

_'Why would they need Rita? Was it supposed ta be a random hostage kidnappin' or were they targetin' the signal?' _

_'It's hard to tell. But Captain Lennox is positive that if the human military forces intercepted any kind of unknown signals Maggie Madsen would immediately inform him of it so that he could contact our base. Such coordinated monitoring is a part of the Human-Autobot program. Captain Lennox never received any such notifications. This signal seems to be intended for Cybertronian equipment only. That means that if the terrorists were after the signal, they could learn of it from only one source…' _

_'…an' it might not be safe here at the hotel,'_ Jazz finished. It was just as he'd thought.

_'Exactly. But I've just bought us some time by changing Rita's name in the hotel's registration database.' _

_'Good move, partner. Rita's in the shower. As soon as she's finished we're leavin' this place and transportin' her to the base. Prime's order. But the question is, _how_ in the name o' Primus can a human female send a signal that can be picked up only by our radars?' _

_'That's a good question. I'm afraid Ratchet would be the only one to try and give it some intelligible explanation.' _

_'Speakin' of Doc. I'd called for him; he needs ta check on Rita as soon as possible… An' he could provide firepower should we need it. I have a bad feelin' about all this... Jazz out.' _

_'Got that. I'll meet him. Bumblebee out.'_

x-x-x

Rita dropped her disheveled clothes onto the floor of the bathroom, not really caring where they would land. Her mind felt strangely numb, overdosed with an unfathomable mass of thoughts that bordered on the absurd. She tried to push it all out of her head stepping into the shower.

She still felt that man's hands on her body. Rough, painful, frightening. And a cold blade pressing into her throat, not even allowing her to swallow without being hurt. She'd never been so scared in her life. It was like breathing the unbearable stench of death, when one tiny movement separates you from agony, from ceasing to exist, when you don't have control over what's happening and when you know that the hand holding your death by the collar won't hesitate to unleash this beast…

Rita's hands went through her hair and came out red. Now that the strands were wet, the dried blood in it went down her shoulders and chest along with rivulets of water, making the girl shudder in revulsion. She hurried to wash the traces of that man from her skin.

Jack- Jazz made him bleed, made him let go of her and run in fear… He didn't have to, he had no reason, he doesn't even know her… And yet he did it. The first guy who really did something for her turned out to be an alien hologram/car. She chuckled sorrowfully. Wasn't it ridiculous? Oh yes, it was. In fact, it was the epitome of her ridiculous life.

Hot water caressed Rita's aching body softly, making her relax a bit, washing away dirt and stress. She closed her eyes and let herself simply stand there, not thinking, just listening to her heartbeat.

x-x-x

"How many times do I have to tell you that humans are useless pieces of meat and blood, Barricade?" Starscream roared. "I can't even _begin_ to assume why you had an illusion that they could find a solution for even the _smallest_ of the Decepticons' problems!"

The silver jet was roaming from one wall to another like a living personification of rage and barely contained need for destruction; the ground vibrated with his heavy steps, his shoulders were hunched as if he was preparing for a jump or for a fight.

"I almost expected that, Starscream," Barricade answered, intimidated by the sight of his furious leader. "They are indeed too weak to match any of our kind. But don't hurry to dismiss our cooperation with them. They could still be useful."

Starscream stopped pacing and turned to the black-white mech, making him brace himself unconsciously. "They are your responsibility, Barricade. _You_ are dealing with them… Where is Frenzy?"

"F-F-Frenzy h-h-here," a hesitant mechanical stutter came from a dark corner. The small Decepticon emerged from his shadowy sanctuary, carrying a device in his tiny hands.

Starscream's heavy red stare regarded Frenzy's shaking form for a second. "Let's see how your invention can assist us," he said slowly and menacingly, a predatory smirk appearing on his face.

x-x-x

Jazz was pacing around the room waiting for Rita to emerge from the bathroom. It had been 7 minutes 27 seconds since she'd gone there. How long did it usually take a human to get clean? Should he ask Bumblebee? The yellow bot had to know that since he was Sam's guardian. But then again, maybe the cleaning time varied for males and females? Not that Jazz was worried; it's just that he didn't know how to busy himself while waiting.

The bot stopped near the bed, noticing a metallic glimmer beside it on the floor. He reached down and pulled a flat round object into his magnetic fingers. It was small and shined dully. A web-search told him that it was human money. A "penny", to be exact.

Along with other symbols stating the coin's value and such, there was a word engraved on the face of it: "liberty". Another term to define freedom. _"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,"_ Optimus' words sounded in Jazz's head. _Looks like humans value that right, too,_ he thought But Rita wasn't given that right.

"Jazz…" he heard suddenly from the bathroom. A frightened and shaky plea for help that couldn't be misinterpreted.

Jazz's head shot up just as the signal readings jumped and quickly started growing in intensity.

The coin fell from his fingers as he rushed to the bathroom door and swung it open, the handle almost torn from its place with the might of the magnetic jolt.

The shower was running, steam rising and clouding the small room – but he couldn't see the girl above the bath. Rita was nowhere around either, and it took the surprised robot, who was personally unfamiliar with the process of taking a shower, a couple of seconds more to realize that she was probably _in_ the bath. Combined with her call for help and with complete absence of her reaction to his appearance, it led Jazz to conclusions he'd rather not think of.

Two long quick strides brought Jazz close to the bath. He would have appreciated the view, had it not frightened him so much. Rita was lying unconscious on her back on the bottom of the bath, her face turned to him; the water around her was pink, the color intensifying into red near her nose. But the worst was that her head was almost entirely under the water.

"Rita!" Jazz called out in a desperate attempt to bring the girl to senses with a sound of his voice. She remained motionless. His frantic hands reached for the handles of the shower to shut the rushing liquid off, but found only plastic. "Scrap! RITA!"

The next second the deafening ping of the signal shattered his firewall and crashed straight to his spark, overloading his CPU.

This was bad. This was very bad…

_'Bumblebee… mayday,'_ was all he had time to send through the com link before going offline.

**_End of Chapter 4 _**

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**_A/N:_**_ You're still with me here? Thanks for reading! Whether you liked it or not, I'd be happy if you left a comment and told me what you think ;) Some action comes in the next part! Be safe, and till the next update._


	5. First Aid

_**A/N**__** #1: **__It's been a long time since the last update, and for that I am sorry. As usual, I want to virtually hug my wonderful beta Kristie and everyone who read the previous parts and left their comments. I love you, guys, you are fantastic and you give me strength to sit in front of my PC late at night after work and write this story :) I'm glad to see that more people subscribe to and favorite this fic, it's a praise in itself, thank you._

_**A/N **__**#2:**__ I know there is an opinion that transformers' holograms don't breathe. But I think that it would be impossible to speak or laugh without breathing. So, in this story, they do. Simulation, or real thing – it's not really important, but they do. And it is a part of the plot, so no flames about that, okay? ;) Hope you'll enjoy this chapter :)_

* * *

_**Chapter **__**5 – "First Aid"**_

It was dark.

Again.

Jazz hated darkness; he'd had enough of it recently. This pitch black Pit could drive a mech crazy.

One thought pierced the void suddenly, startling the Autobot.

_Rita!_

'_Bee…?'_ he called for his partner.

But the oblivious darkness muffled and absorbed his call.

_What the slag?_

'_Ratch?'_

The result was the same.

'_Optimus?'_

Silence.

Then he heard it – the buzzing sound of charging batteries. Almost instantly the Cybertronian symbols appeared in his view:

_**Emergency**__** Power Supply: on**_

_**Primary Power Supply: **__**on**_

_**Central Processor: **__**fully operational**_

_**Telemetry**__** System: activated**_

_**Sensory **__**System: activated**_

_**Visual and **__**Audio Receptors: activated**_

A rush of information announced the silver Autobot's come back from offline mode. Jazz made a quick scan of his systems and of the surrounding world. There was no danger, and nothing was wrong or strange at the parking lot around him. Jazz saw Bumblebee's yellow form parked several yards from him. The presence of the scout was soothing, it gave Jazz hope that his partner was with Rita, helping the girl. _And where the slag is Ratchet?_

_**Communications Frequencies Range Scan: 5... 10... 15...**_

_**Private Communications Channel activation in: 20 seconds… 19… 18…**_

That's why he couldn't get response from any of his comrades.

He didn't have time to wait.

One of the most irritating thing about using holo-projector was the fact that the holo-form could be activated only in direct proximity from the projector. So the only way to get into the building for Jazz would be to activate his holo in the driver's seat and and then make his way to the fifth floor where Rita's room was situated.

Jazz's human form appeared behind the Pontiac's steering wheel, left the car in a hurry and practically flew to the front doors of the Paradise Hotel. Once in the hall, he slowed down to a fast walk so as not to attract unwanted attention to himself. However, his arrival wasn't unnoticed. A young woman in a uniform at the reception opened her mouth to stop him, but Jazz gave her a wink and a heart-melting smile, effectively leaving her speechless. _That was sorta reward for spendin' eons on makin' a good holo. _As soon as he reached the stairs and was out of her sight he once again started running. In a spark-pulse he was near Rita's room. He turned the metallic knob and entered.

The image that greeted Jazz took only a second to imprint itself in his memory forever, gaining first place in the folder "Strange Things About Earth" within a second. Rita was lying on the floor near the bed, still unconscious and covered with a towel from the waist down. Bumblebee's holo-form was kneeling beside the girl's slender hips, his hands on her bare chest – a picture that would have disturbed him had it not been Bumblebee.

Jazz's eyes went wide when Bee held Rita's nose with two of his fingers, then pressed his lips firmly to her mouth holding her chin with another hand and breathed out. A second later the blonde put his hands on the center of the girl's upper chest again and pressed forcefully four times.

"What the slag 're ya doin'?!" Jazz gasped in horror, shutting the door behind him and dashing to his partner.

"Back off, Jazz," usually easy-going Bumblebee barked back at him, leaning to Rita's mouth again and making four breaths this time. His tone meant "no jokes, we've got trouble" in any language of the Universe. "I'm trying to save her life following Ratchet's instructions," he said, pressing down on her chest with his hands again.

Jazz knelt beside Rita opposite from Bumblebee and looked at the girl's face. Her eyes were closed, she was unresponsive. He threw a worried glance around the room, taking a moment to assess the situation. He could see a wet trail of water that went from the bathroom to the spot where she was laying, and it pretty much gave him an insight on what exactly had happened while his CPU was out.

"Rita's signal appeared on my radar when you had gone offline," Bumblebee started explaining quickly. "And Ratchet intercepted it as well. He assumed it to be the reason of your overload and sent me the codes to dim it down a bit so that you could reboot." The blonde gave Rita another breath, to no avail. "Her blood pressure jumped, that's why she had a hemorrhage from her nose. She's unconscious and not breathing, I'm trying to get her online again. Ratch is in five minutes from here."

Bee was nervous and frightened for a human life in his hands. Jazz could understand why: Bumblebee wasn't a medic, he just blindly followed the instructions; he wasn't used to such responsibility and was afraid of doing something wrong.

"Come on… come _on_," the blonde whimpered in despair. Jazz could only sit back on his heels in a wordless dismay and watch. The girl's wet hair seemed almost raven, her skin was unnaturally pale, and that made the little red cut on her throat even more noticeable and out of place. She looked like a doll, a beautiful, fragile doll that was broken in more than one way.

A quick web-search provided Jazz with the basic information on human heart and brain peculiarities.

"How long?" he asked Bumblebee in a tight voice.

"Two minutes thirty five seconds."

Energon froze in Jazz's circuits. Just a little longer – and she'll be lost or damaged beyond repair.

'_Ratchet, man, ya'd better hurry__,'_ Jazz sent through his intercom that was working again.

'_Report your status, lieutenant,'_ he heard the medic's tone of voice, and Jazz had no other options but to respond in the same manner.

'_Lieutenant Jazz, status stable, fully functional. It's Rita who needs ya, Ratch, not me.'_

'_I'm doing my best, Jazz.'_

_Please, Rita_, the silver bot pleaded with his charge silently.

Didn't he promise her that she would be safe? She called for him when she'd sensed the danger. But all he could do was sit here beside her while Bumblebee was trying to bring her back to life.

He felt useless, despite all his attempts to prove the opposite since his revival.

Jazz scanned Rita. Her heart was just a faint whisper. It seemed almost like she wasn't really there. Did he himself look like that after the battle for the Allspark? Like an empty shell…

"Don't die on me, girl," he muttered under his breath, his hand running through his ruffled short hair.

Bee breathed into Rita's mouth again, and then – _thank Matrix!_ – her green eyes flew open, mouth swallowing the much needed air on its own; but the intake was cut short by a fit of violent coughs that shook her entire frame. Bumblebee shot up to one knee immediately, giving her space and turning her to her stomach so that any remaining liquid could leave her lungs. Rita leaned onto her trembling hands, pulling her legs under herself. Bee's free hand grabbed the sheet from the bed by the corner and draped it over Rita's nakedness. Jazz felt gratitude to his partner for that, though he didn't know where it had come from.

'_Ratchet, she's come to her senses, heart functional, breathing ragged, but returning to normal,'_ Bumblebee reported to the CMO, relief evident on the scout's human face.

'_Good job, Bumblebee. I'll be there in two minutes,'_ the medic replied to the both Autobots, and Jazz could swear he'd heard the same relief in Ratchet's voice that the two of them felt at the moment.

Rita was sitting on the wet floor now, clutching at the soaked sheet that was wrapped around her trembling body.

"Breathe, Rita, breathe… That's it," Jazz spoke to her in a soothing voice, regretting his inability to support her with his hands. Rita looked at him. Her gaze was slightly dazed and still held a tinge of fear, but she was calming down bit by bit. "Ya scared me there, y'know," the ever present smile was returning to Jazz's lips, though a bit half-hearted.

Rita's eyes shifted silently to the blond young man on her other side, and Jazz took it as his cue to introduce them to each other. "This is ma' partner, Bumblebee. He's an Autobot, juz like myself. He saved yer life."

Bumblebee gave the girl a friendly smile that lit up his young face. "Nice to meet you, Miss Grace," he said.

She answered him with a long stare, and then nodded. "It-… It's Rita." Her voice was quiet and raspy, and she cleared her throat. Apparently she preferred to be called by her first name, no matter who she was talking with. Jazz decided that he liked that. After all, his own species were doing fine without second names and he never could understand why humans needed them at all.

"We gotta dry ya up a bit before Ratchet arrives," Jazz said, looking around. "Bee, could ya bring some towels?"

Bumblebee nodded, understanding that Jazz couldn't do it himself, and went to the bathroom in search of the needed items.

Rita brushed her nose with her palm and looked at her fingers as if checking whether she was still bleeding. Thankfully, the bleeding has stopped, and she looked at Jazz again. "Who's 'Ratchet?'" the girl asked uncertainly.

"Our medical officer." There was no point in holding back the information from her. She would find it all out soon anyway.

"He's a "robot", too?"

"Yeah," Jazz confirmed.

"How many of you guys are out there?" She asked quietly.

"Ya mean Autobots? Five with ma'self."

"It was a rhetorical question, Jazz," she shook her head.

Jazz chuckled. "How're ya feelin'?" He asked trying to scan her, but not succeeding very much, since he wasn't a medic and didn't know what to look for. Her "exterior" seemed to be normal though, if a bit shaken and wet.

"Like I almost drowned in an embarrassingly small puddle of water," Rita gave a tired humorless laugh. "What a pathetic and stupid way to die, isn't it?"

"Absolutely," Jazz drawled with a half-smile, and then became serious again. "Rita, what was that all about?"

The girl's shoulders visibly drooped, making her seem even smaller; she wrapped the sheets around herself tighter as if trying to hide in them. "It's the first time it's happened twice in one day," she whispered. And it dawned at Jazz what she meant when she'd told him about her "strange disease."

There was a heavy silence between them. She was staring at the floor near her bare feet, deep in her own thoughts, and he was staring at her, not really knowing what to say. He could tell her that "everything's gonna be fine," but he wasn't so sure about it anymore, and he didn't want to lie to her.

The silence was interrupted by Bumblebee emerging from the bathroom with a dry towel and clean clothes that had been abandoned there.

"Thank you… Bumblebee," Rita said, pausing a little before saying the blonde's name. Jazz knew she was thanking him not only for the clothes, but also for her life. Bee's smile indicated that he'd felt it, too.

"You are welcome," the blonde replied, his electric-blue eyes reflecting joy.

Rita took the clothes from him and looked at Jazz and Bee. "Uh… guys?" she started. "Would you mind turning away for a minute?" She lifted her brow.

"Oh," they said in unison and turned around, giving Rita some privacy. Jazz felt stupid, though he wouldn't confess it even under a torture.

It was a minute later when someone knocked on the door. Rita stopped in the middle of buttoning and zipping her jeans and looked with worry in the direction of the sound. Jazz made a silent gesture to Bumblebee, and they both took place on the two sides of the entrance before the dark-skinned Autobot turned the knob and opened the door.

Ratchet didn't even say 'hi' as he let himself inside without hesitation, and honestly Jazz didn't expect him to. The medic got all business-like and straight-to-the-point when his professional abilities were required. And he _was_ the leader in such moments; even Optimus didn't dare to question his decisions. _Hmm, maybe I should make medicine ma' second profile?_

Jazz looked Ratchet's holo-form over with interest – it was the first time he had seen the medic using it. His "human" body was bigger and taller than Jazz's, well-built and somewhere in its late thirties, or early forties; he had short brown hair, stylishly combed, with traces of silver on his temples; gray careful eyes that looked straightforward at everything around him; and two-days worth of stubble along his chin and jaw line. _Not bad._ It suited the medic who was always in the process of doing something vitally important and urgent. Add to it the medical outfit that humans usually wore and the air of authority that always accompanied his presence – and you have a good picture of "Ratchet-the-Mad-Repairman."

Rita momentarily tensed seeing the newcomer that was moving towards her with quick confident strides. She looked at Jazz questioningly.

"Rita, this is Ratchet," Jazz introduced his comrade to the girl. "I told ya, he's our medic. He needs ta run a little check on ya," he added.

Rita's gaze moved to Ratchet, and the medic gave her a curt nod. "My pleasure to meet with you, Miss Grace," he said in a calm, polite tone.

The girl opened her mouth, and Jazz could bet she was going to correct Ratchet in regards of her name. But the medic silenced whatever she was going to say by laying one hand on Rita's forehead gently to tilt her head back slightly and take a look at the little cut on her throat. Ratchet's brows creased, he 'hmm'-ed quietly.

'_What's that mean, Doc?'_ Jazz asked through the intercom.

'_I am not sure yet,'_ the medic answered, then took a little flash-light from his pocket and directed a thin ray of light into Rita's eyes, still holding her head with one palm.

Everyone waited. Ratchet ran several different scans on his speechless patient, then produced another concerned "hmm" and wrapped one hand around his midsection, the other hand supporting his chin in a tell-tale gesture of deep contemplation. Three pairs of eyes looked at him, the same silent question in each.

"We have to deliver her to our med labs," was the medical officer's verdict. "I need my equipment to run some tests. Until then I cannot come to any conclusions."

Rita suddenly snapped out from her muted state. "Tests?" she squeaked and furrowed her brows angrily at Ratchet. "I'm not some kind of a lab rat for alien experiments, mister!"

"Rita, no one's gonna getcha into 'experiments' here," Jazz assured her, stepping closer to the two. "Doc's juz gonna try ta fix that problem of yours, that's all."

"Jazz is right, Ms. Grace," Ratchet confirmed. "Our only intention towards you would be to move you to a safe place and make a thorough medical research, so that we can find the cause or causes of your mysterious disease and eliminate them."

By the look on Rita's face Jazz could tell she didn't like the term "eliminate."

'_Hey Doc, watch yer words here, yer scarin' 'er,'_ he sent through the com link.

Then he addressed Rita. "He talks funny, but he means no harm. I trust 'im with ma' life, so ya can trust 'im, too."

'_How generous of you, __Jazz,'_ Ratchet snorted, showing a 'kind doctor' smile to the girl at the same time. It was all Jazz could do not to laugh at that.

Rita's eyes were shifting from her bodyguard to the medic and back. She was obviously considering her options. "Okay," she finally said, carefully and quietly. "But on one condition. I've got to play a show today, and I _will_ do it, no matter what."

She was getting nervous again, and Jazz wondered why she got like that every time she talked about the show.

"It is scheduled to 10 pm at Jet Club, am I correct?" Ratchet asked after a little pause.

"Yes, you are correct," Rita eyed the medic warily.

"You will be escorted there by Jazz, so there is nothing for you to worry about, Rita," Ratchet assured her.

The girl nodded. "Fine, then you can take me to that 'safe place' of yours." She turned away from them and wandered to the mirror drying her hair with a towel on her way.

'_Yer kiddin', right?'_ Jazz asked Ratchet through the intercom.

'_Why would I do that, lieutenant?'_ The medic replied.

'_It's not safe for her ta be anywhere near the city right now, let alone get onstage.'_

'_And what do you suggest? It was her condition. We can't just take her with us against her will; it would be a violation of all the protocols regarding humans we have.'_

'_I still don'__t like the idea, Doc.'_

'_We shall see if it can be avoided. But if it is what I think it is… then I am ready to take all risks possible.' _Ratchet answered firmly; it looked like their conversation on this topic was closed. What was he talking about? Jazz had very uncomfortable feeling it was something very serious. He just hoped it wouldn't take lives of those he wanted to protect…

This thought reminded Jazz that he needed Ratchet's help with a little problem he had.

'_Err… Since we got some time here, I need ya ta fix ma' holo-projector, Ratch. I'm fed up with Bee havin' ta back me up all the time. I can't look out for the girl if I ain't really here. It nearly killed 'er the last time.'_

Ratchet's brows furrowed, he captiously studied Jazz's hologram. _'You have a point here, lieutenant. We shall have to turn our holo-projectors off and move around back of the hotel where no one will be able to see us.'_

"Bee, yer in charge here," Jazz turned to the blonde young man. He chose a vocal form of communication so that Rita could hear them, too. "Doc an' I got some business ta do outside. Help Rita pack and get 'er down ta the parkin' lot. We'll be there."

Bumblebee nodded in acknowledgement.

Before letting his hologram dissolve Jazz met Rita's surprised and devastated gaze directed at him. He hated to scare her, but he didn't want to lose any time.

The silver Pontiac Solstice and the lime-green Hummer H2 left the parking lot and slowly made their way around back, under a group of tall trees with rich crowns that gave enough shadow to hide the two Autobots in the darkness of the night.

Having his holo-projector being repaired proved to be a fast, but painful experience. Ratchet's laser calibrated Jazz's sensory system and connected it to the nervous system of his future holo-form.

'_I can't __turn your nerve receptors off, Jazz. I need to see that the connection is being established the right way.'_

'_I ain't askin' ya ta, Doc,'_ Jazz answered in mild surprise.

'_Then stop squirming, it's a delicate work,'_ the medic told him sternly.

_Oh…_

'_Sorry.' _

Several seconds later Ratchet folded his laser back into his hand. _'Try it,'_ he said.

Jazz transformed into his vehicle-form and tentatively activated his holo-projector. As his "human" self left the car he could feel the cool air on his skin and in his hair. Temperature, humidity, the caress of the wind – everything. He bent to the ground and picked up a stone of a medium size that perfectly fit into his palm. His eyes searched around and stopped on the dumpster about five yards away from where he and Ratchet were settled. He raised his hand and threw the stone; the projectile drew a graceful arc in the air and landed accurately in the middle of the can, the sound of its fall muffled by the garbage that had already been in there.

'_Three-pointer,'_ Jazz smirked mischievously, a smug look on his face.

'_Show off,'_ Ratchet snorted, but Jazz knew that the medic was satisfied with his work on his holo-projector.

The peace of the moment was ruined by the signal of warning that Jazz got on his radar. It could only be caused by the Decepticon's appearance in the area…

_**End of Chapter 5**_

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_** _**A/N:** Chapter 6 will be posted in a day or two. Thanks for reading, and please leave your comments! I guarantee a reply for each review I get (that is, if you have a profile on this website, or if you point your e-mail when leaving the review) :) Constructive criticism will be cherished. Okay, be safe, and see ya in the next chapter!_


	6. The Clash Of Interests

_**A/N: **__Thank you all for the comments, guys :) __Here is the promised chapter, with long-promised action!_

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_**Chapter **__**6 – "The Clash Of Interests"**_

'_Y__ou see that, guys?'_ Bumblebee asked over the com link.

'_Ye__ah. Barricade,'_ Jazz turned off his hologram. According to the signal the police car was parked near the hotel, as if waiting… for what?

'_He's tireless.'_ If Ratchet could shake his head while in his vehicle-form, he'd have done it.

Jazz was going to tell Bumblebee to get Rita down that very instant, but the scout's concerned voice suddenly came across the com link again. _'Guys, I've got something else on my far-range radar.'_

Jazz checked his far-range, but saw only Rita's signal, his comrades' signatures and one of Barricade. But it didn't mean anything. Bee was a spy, and therefore he was good at locating things before anyone else could do it.

'_What__'s that, Bee?'_ Jazz asked.

'_It's… slag, it's Starscream,'_ Bumblebee finished with nuisance.

That's what Barricade was waiting for. Starscream meant trouble. _Big_ trouble. As in, crashed streets and blown buildings. Jazz could easily understand the hatred that his partner had _almost_ managed to wipe from his voice as he'd said the Decepticon's name. Having your legs torn off by the shock wave of a blast from his missiles must have been not very pleasant.

'_How far __is he?'_ Ratchet asked the scout dryly.

'_One and a half minutes.'_

No point in fleeing from the hotel then, the Decepticon jet would be sure to not let them escape. Under such conditions it would be safer for Rita to stay inside the building, out of sight of the Decepticons.

'_Jazz to Optimus Prime.'_

'_Optimus here.'_

'_Sir, we might need ta engage in a fight with the Decepticons in the human city. Yer orders, sir?'_

Optimus was silent for several seconds. He was thinking of the possible and inevitable consequences.

'_Can__ the confrontation be avoided?'_ He asked.

'_I can't say for sure, sir.'_

When Optimus spoke again his voice was not one of a commander, but that of a friend. _'You were and still are my Second in Command, Jazz. Act on your discretion.'_

'_Thank you, sir.'_ Jazz responded quietly, but firmly. He was thanking his leader for the trust. It would be Jazz's first serious operation since Ratchet had brought him back from the land of dead.

'_Keep me informed_ Prime said. _'And bring everyone back in one piece, Jazz.'_

'_Yes sir_

'_Optimus out.'_

'_A'right everyone, stay alert,'_ Jazz spoke up calmly, taking the lead between the three of them. _'Check yer weapons and await orders. Maybe it'll still go smoothly,' _he added quietly, butdidn't believe his own words. It was time to call for reinforcements in the form of Ironhide who was on patrol around the city. _''Hide, where are ya?'_

'_Returning to the Lennoxes' residence. Why?'_

'_Mind joinin' us, big man?'_

'_Depends. I need to guard my charge,'_ the weapons specialist grumbled half-heartedly.

'_Well, I thoughtcha might wanna kick some Decepticon aft.'_

'_You should have started with that, little guy,'_ Ironhide grunted. _'Where and when?'_

'_At the Paradise Hotel__. Right 'bout now.'_

'_I'll be in five minutes. Don't get yourself fragged by then.'_

'_Was that a threat?'_ Jazz asked in mocking disbelief.

'_No. A warning,'_ Ironhide growled, and Jazz smiled to himself knowing that it was the black mech's way of showing concern.

'_Hurry__, bro, or there won't be fun left for ya here,' _Jazz drawled. His words were a major bluff; should the confrontation take place, they would need Ironhide's outstanding strength and legendary cannons to ensure everyone made it back to the base tonight. But it was his way of keeping things cool.

'_Really? Then tell them not to start without me,'_ the weapons specialist smirked. _'Ironhide out,'_ he said and closed the link.

Yeah, they understood each other perfectly. Only five minutes. They just had to get the Decepticons busy and move Rita far enough from the hotel to merge with traffic and make the chase meaningless. _Piece o' cake._

And then Jazz heard the jet.

The sound started like a distant scream and as the aircraft neared their location it grew into a guttural growl. In the relative night calm of the human city it was almost deafening. Several moments later a huge silver metallic form of F-22 Raptor started to fall from the black sky into the middle of the parking lot, transforming in mid-air into a menacing robot and landing heavily on its long powerful legs. Above the low-frequency noise that Starscream's dying turbines were producing Jazz could hear the screeching of car tires on the nearby street and the shrieks of humans. The first signs of panic that promised to turn into a mass terror, not unlike the one that had accompanied the Battle for the Allspark.

_Yeah, piece__ of cake._

Behind Starscream's back Barricade rose from his car-form and moved to stand beside his leader. The two Autobots left their shelter, already falling into battle modes and readying for the clash that was becoming more and more probable with each passing second. Jazz couldn't imagine the two Decepticons transforming back into their secondary modes and just leaving at this rate.

Jazz slid the visor over his optics and switched his intercom to the encoded frequency. _'Bee, stay back for now and protect Rita.'_

'_Got it__, Jazz.'_

''_Hide?'_

'_Three minutes.'_

'_Barricade's yours. I'll take Starscream,'_ Ratchet transmitted the message.

Fair enough. Jazz was too small to stand against the jet.

'_Okay, lez dance.'_ Jazz let the fatal smirk blossom on his lips, holding Barricade's red gaze.

The two Decepticons moved simultaneously, as if on command. And everything else disappeared for Jazz except for the fight.

Barricade lunged at the silver Autobot. The saboteur swung his upper body back, as the black and white mech's shiny metallic claws swished through the air dangerously close to Jazz's face. Jazz ducked forward and punched him in the side, continuing with the onward movement so that he ended up behind the Decepticon, out of the dangerous zone around him. A string of Cybertronian expletives emitted from Barricade's mouth, followed by series of vengeful attacks.

Barricade wasn't exactly a small mech. So far only speed was on Jazz's side. The saboteur could hear the buzz of Ratchet's rotary saw behind his back, and, by the sound of it, its steel fangs had just tried what Starscream's armor tasted like. Jazz jumped back from yet another of Barricade's aggressive moves and glanced at Ratchet. The medic had the same 'size difference' problem, if not bigger, literally speaking, and tried not to let Starscream's long hands near himself. The jet was missing several fingers, too. _Go, Ratch._

Jazz prayed for Ironhide to appear soon. It was getting intense, and he didn't like it. It would be pure luck if none of humans would be dead after this.

'_Bee, we kinda need ya here,'_ Jazz bellowed through his com link as Barricade launched at him with a swiftness that was astonishing for a mech of his size. Jazz rollerskated to the side and barely managed to escape the fist that came crashing down on the pavement, making a huge hole in the asphalt with broken rifts coming from it. _Slag, that was close._

Barricade was open for a shot, but Jazz couldn't use his plasma cannon, it might injure any humans that were around.

The black-white Decepticon turned around for another attack and Jazz went purely on instinct, generating the low-level forcefield around his spark casing and activating his battle shield. And just in time, for Barricade's hand swung loosely, aimed at Jazz's midsection. The silver Autobot caught the punch on his shield and drove it to the side. But the second punch got him. The force of the blow was… _Remarkable for a Decepticon,_ Jazz thought, balancing on the verge of unconsciousness and trying to get up from the ground. The saboteur's visor dimmed for a moment and lit up again, to register a clawed hand falling down onto his chest. Razor-sharp fingers sank into his shoulder and started cutting his armored torso with an awful moaning sound, tearing through the forcefield and leaving deep marks in Jazz's metal skin. The silver bot gave a strangled mechanical sound and grabbed that hand with both of his, trying to stop it before it could reach his spark casing.

A bright yellow lightning crashed into Barricade's side, pushing the black-white mech away from Jazz and toppling him over.

_Bee…_

A wave of gratitude washed over Jazz as he gathered his trembling form back on his feet and collected himself as best he could for a fight again. He glanced around the battlefield, making a quick reconnaissance; his gaze fell onto the far end of the hotel's parking lot, where in the midst of human and vehicle chaos he saw a van.

The black van from an hour ago.

_No way_, he thought.

So it was a distraction attack to get them into a fight and reach Rita at the same time.

_No__ fraggin' way…_

x-x-x

Rita knelt on the bathroom floor. Her hands grabbed her dirty pair of jeans from before, digging through multiple pockets and searching frantically for a thing she couldn't possibly leave the hotel without – her cell-phone.

She cursed through gritted teeth. It had been slightly disturbing when that Ratchet-guy had suggested to make a "thorough medical research" with further "elimination" of whatever he might find; it had been slightly more disturbing when Jazz had simply vanished into the air like a fucking ghost in a horror movie; it had been quite scary when the window glass had started vibrating from a horrible low hum coming from outside, and when awful crashing sounds had come from the street a little bit later. But it had been downright _freaky_ when Bumblebee had thrown a "get to the parking lot, one of us will pick you up" at her and dissipated as well, leaving her alone and with an open mouth in the middle of the empty room. _What the hell is going on here?_

She finally found her cell-phone and almost jumped out of her skin when it burst to life in her palm. After a second of absolute disorientation she pressed the dial button.

"Yeah?" Her voice trembled, and she couldn't do anything to prevent it.

"_Rita, get outta there.__ Now!"_ It was Jazz. His urgent tone made Rita's heart skip a bit, she started to rise up into a standing position.

"What's going on, Jazz?" Her hands were shaking. A feeling of vulnerability engulfed her, now that the absolutely abnormal things had begun to happen around her. She'd never been so pitifully unable to think straight, but who could blame her right now?

"_Those __thugs that tried ta kidnap ya are in the hotel,' _Jazz explained, breathing heavily, and Rita felt nauseous, hearing his grunt in time with a sound of explosion outside the window. _"Leave everythin' and get outta yer room. Don't use the elevator. Don't hang up. I'll meet ya half-way."_

Rita felt everything inside of her go cold. Among all the things that she was unable to fathom she could definitely understand what the two armed guys from that street meant.

"_Rita?"_ Jazz's voice held concern.

"Yeah, yeah, Jazz… I'm leaving." Rita breathed out, clutching the phone to her ear and hastily putting her shoes on.

As she ran to the door, it suddenly burst open from a mighty kick, revealing a huge figure of the man in black that occupied almost entire door opening. Rita's gaze lifted up and caught his burning black eyes that she recognized immediately and that expressed insanity and cruelty. His left ear was bandaged. He looked even more intimidating than in the uneven light of the night streets.

_Oh God…_

Rita whimpered in terror and moved back as he made a slow step towards her. He was visibly relaxed, and even smiling slightly. He didn't have any reason not to; he'd cornered his prey.

She turned away from him and ran back into the room. She didn't know why she did it. Maybe to try and jump out of the window; it would be better than letting that man near her again. Whatever her subconscious thought, it was a mistake. The man advanced at her like a predator, catching her in a matter of seconds. They both fell to the floor with a loud thud. Rita's breath left her lungs as all of his weight landed atop of her. The cell-phone slipped from her fingers and fell a couple of feet away from her. A faint, but desperate "Rita!" could be heard from it.

_Jazz…_

The man's huge hands tried to find a tighter grasp on Rita and pin her down. She cried out, on the verge of panic, and miraculously managed to turn onto her back. Her hands clenched into fists, she started struggling. This was a battle for her life, furious and uncompromised; she put everything she had into her punches, not really aiming anywhere in particular.

One of her fists hit the man into his injured ear. He let out a roar of pain and lost his grip on her for a moment. It was enough for her to knee him in the crotch area and gather all her strength to push his heavy writhing body from her.

She scrambled up to her unsteady legs, grabbed the phone from the floor and made a wild dash to the door again, almost falling out of her room. People were running around in the corridor, she could hear someone screaming somewhere. Rita glanced to her right and saw the elevator doors open. The second man in black stepped out and turned his head to her.

_Shit, shit, shit…_

Rita turned and ran towards the stairs.

"Jazz!" She cried into the phone.

"_Rita, what the frag was that?!"_ Her bodyguard sounded as out of his mind as she felt. _"Ya okay?"_

"Yeah," she replied, running down one stairwell. "Those two…" She didn't finish, starting to suffocate from running and adrenaline.

"_Yer in the right wing, they must be followin' ya. Go ta the left staircase, I'm comin' for ya."_

"Okay." She took a run along the corridor of the fourth floor, hoping that her persecutors would stay on her previous path, on the stairs of the building's right wing.

Her lungs were burning with fire, each breath cut like a knife inside of her chest. She threw a glance behind her and to her absolute horror saw the man with the bandaged ear at the far end of the corridor. He had a gun in his hand. He raised his weapons and took aim…

Time stretched like in a slow motion, and only her mind was racing at a speed of light. She felt heaviness in her legs as if they had been made from lead. Just a couple of feet more – and she would reach the end of the corridor and cover behind the corner. But her brain working like a clock told her instantly that she wasn't going to make it…

A flash of motion right in front of her caught her eye. A familiar figure appeared from around the corner she'd been striving to reach and raced towards her. She had only a nanosecond to lock eyes with it – blue eyes, like arctic ice – but it felt like an eternity.

_Jazz._

She didn't seem to be able to feel relief, in that instant she could feel nothing but all-encompassing fear. Jazz's gaze shifted past Rita, behind her back, and he reached for her with his hands, so slowly and so fast at the same time. She didn't slow down, expecting him to vanish or let her pass through him like a paper ball.

But instead she bumped into him full force.

Not loosing even a second, he wrapped one arm securely around her small frame and used the momentum to spin them both around, pressing her to himself and shielding her from the gun. His other hand awkwardly held her head to his hard chest, cradling it under his chin. The next thing she heard were whip-like cracks of gunshots blasting through the air, echoed by a muffled, sickening sound of flesh being torn.

And then the world gave a start and was rushing again, as fast as the perfectly aimed bullets.

The body holding her jerked three times, two strong arms tightened around her, but no sound escaped Jazz except for the hitched breath.

And they were moving again. The two made it to the saving turn and fell to the floor behind it in a heavy heap. Rita sat up on her knees immediately and turned to Jazz, afraid to look at him, but unable not to. She could see three nasty dark-red patches forming and spreading on the back of his once blindingly white t-shirt that used to seem unable to be ruined. Breathing heavily he started to lift himself up onto his hands and knees, and she felt a wave of panic and sheer horror rising in her chest when she realized how much effort it cost him to do such a simple thing. She wanted to touch him, but didn't dare. She wanted to cry, but couldn't make her vocal chords work.

He managed to come up on all fours, but quickly gave up the idea of fully getting onto his feet. "Go… reach… my car-form," he breathed out between the intakes of air.

Rita didn't move, terrified and frozen in place by the thought of leaving him behind and at the same time hearing the tramping of boots in the corridor getting closer to them with each passing second. A low hoarse groan of pain finally tore itself from Jazz's throat, and the sound of it wrenched at her guts. She just stared at him, trembling violently, her eyes bright with fear and tears.

"Go!" He snapped angrily, looking at her with agony flooded eyes.

It was an order that left no space for disobedience. It broke her stupor.

Letting out a desperate whimper and thus voicing a tangle of emotions that had formed a suffocating lump in her throat, Rita got up on her wobbly legs. She gave Jazz one last glance. Then turned away from him and started running.

_**End of Chapter **__**6**_

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_**A/N: **__Oh boy, I can't seem to stop torturing these two :sniff: Thanks for reading, and please leave your comments! Also, __Sinead Rivka__'s comment inspired me to ask all of you: what would you like to see in this story? Feel free to suggest (but not something too crazy, of course). I can't promise I'll fulfill your 'requests' (because the main plot is defined), but I have several options as to how I could make some details, and maybe your suggestions would help me decide :) Of course, it's not necessary, though. Okay, be safe, and till next chapter! ;)_


	7. A New Reality

_**A/N:**__ Obviously, my other Jazz-centered fic Morning Tea is distracting me somewhat from this story. But I can assure you, I am **not**, under **any **circumstances, abandoning Resolution. I'm just slowing down a bit with it, but there are too many interesting twists __I have planned __for Jazz and Rita in this epic fic to just let them be :) Though, which fic is getting to be updated next, is hard to tell. Depends on my muse, which is a very unpredictable thing._

_Kristie, thank you so much for finding time to beta this chap for me. I know you're terribly busy with different stuff right now, and I really appreciate it, my dear :)_

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_**Chapter 7 – "A New Reality"**_

Rita's entire being wanted only to fall to the ground and never get up. Just to stop running and let whatever fate was waiting for her overtake her. A breathless sob escaped her lips as every muscle strained to its limits. She felt hot tears streaming down her face, her palms got damp and sweaty. It felt like she was moving through a thick substance that tugged at her with its ethereal fingers, pulling her back and down.

Jazz had told her to run._He knows what he's doing._ But the sight of him standing on his knees on the carpeted floor, injured and unable to get up, flashed behind her eyelids. She growled with anger directed at herself and put every last bit of energy into keeping her numb legs moving.

_Don't stop, don't stop…_

A breath, another one. The air was coming in and out of her lungs with a loud hiss, and the sting of burning pain in her chest was now a permanent presence. She heard a muffled roar that seemed to come from outside the building and felt the floor quaking underneath her feet, and she didn't really want to know what caused it.

She burst through the door of the first floor and ran into the reception hall, mingling with a small crowd of people – personnel and customers – who were running in panic towards the front entrance and attempting to leave the shaking building in the face of danger.

A deafening sound of a close explosion greeted her escape from the hotel. One of the cars at the parking lot blew up along with a stone statue near it. Rita covered her head with her arms and squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a desperate cry and running even faster than before. A wave of heat washed over her. Bits of debris flew in all directions; those who happened to be anywhere near the hotel dashed from their slicing path, shrieking and shouting. Small splinters of stone cut Rita's unprotected arms, painting them with numerous thin lines of red, but she didn't even notice.

Stopping in the center of the parking lot, she uncovered her head and, following instincts, looked back. What she saw there glued her to the spot and made her forget about almost getting killed, about Jazz lying on the floor with gunshot wounds, about everything. Two giant metallic… _things_ were towering over the hotel's parking lot, tangled together. One was bright yellow in color, and the other was black and white. It took a dumbstruck Rita a moment to realize that they were fighting – or more like _wrestling_. Earth shuddered under their enormous legs that struggled to find a firmer stance. One of the black-white figure's "arms" snapped, clicked loudly, rotated and unfolded into something round and menacing that looked very much like some ridiculously huge cannon from a comic book. The yellow figure grabbed at it, trying to lift it up, but not succeeding much. A burst of fire and blinding light from that "arm" was accompanied by an awful thunderous sound of heavy weapons discharging that filled the air and drowned out the new wave of fearful yells around. Yet another car blew up, steely bits of it flying in the air as if they weighed nothing, shattering the windows of two nearby vehicles to pieces and setting them on fire. Metal screeched and moaned as the two large forms attacked each other in a close fight, huge fists clenched tightly and two sets of bright lights – one blood-red and another one deep blue – were that their _eyes_? – blazing with what could only be described as rage on their almost human faces... It was unbelievable. Unthinkable…

Rita whimpered. It was really not a good time to think if she wanted to stay alive. She glanced around wildly in search of the silver Pontiac Solstice. She couldn't see it. She brought the cell-phone that was still clutched in her hand to her ear, but there was no sound, no connection.

She growled with frustration, lowering the phone. "Jazz!" she cried out at the top of her lungs turning around and searching for him with her eyes. Her voice was quivering from fear and adrenaline. Would he hear her? "Jazz, where are you?!" Was she really calling a _car_, for Christ's sake?! A visit to a shrink would have to be in order once it all came to an end.

Rita heard a roar of an engine to her left, and turning in that direction she saw a familiar silvery sleek frame. Her heart leaped when she realized there was no driver behind the steering wheel.

_God, it's true…_

The self-driving Pontiac raced towards her, blaring its horn like crazy and making the disoriented crowd of people jump out of its way. Rita just stood there, shocked and unable to move. Several yards from her the car's brakes caught and the front wheels turned, making the vehicle skid the rest of the distance with an ear-piercing sound. It stopped right in front of Rita, the driver's door within the reach of her hand. Now that the car was close, the girl's gaze fell on the deep gashes on its hood that looked as if a gigantic tiger had used it to sharpen its claws… And then the Solstice shuddered, its engine cut out and all the lights on the dashboard dimming, as if somebody had simply turned the car off.

Not knowing what it all meant and how to react, Rita opened the door and got inside in a hurry, trying not to freak out. She found the key in the ignition with her trembling fingers and turned it.

Nothing.

"Come on, come on… Jazz…" she whined, turning the unresponsive ignition and glancing every now and then at the entrance of the building. She didn't know what or who she was expecting to see there: her persecutors, or Jazz's hologram, or both. So far none of them had appeared.

She tried to start the engine, again and again. Something was really, seriously wrong. The car was silent. Cold. _Dead_, came the horrible thought.

"No, no, no, don't leave me, Jazz!" It had been just a hologram in the building, right? It hadn't been the real him, right? He couldn't be _dead_!

"Oh God… wake up, buddy… please," she begged, giving up with the ignition and grasping the steering wheel and the dashboard with shaking hands. She was crying openly now, hot tears smearing the world around her.

The two armed men burst through the front doors of the hotel and were now making their way to the silver Pontiac she was sitting in, having spotted it easily in the middle of the parking lot. Her gaze sought Jazz's hologram, but he wasn't there.

_So this is it?_

She watched the two men approach quickly through the haze in her eyes. One of them had blood on his face and held onto his nose that was probably broken; the one with the bandaged ear was cradling his left arm, and they were so close that she could see the broken skin on the knuckles of his right hand, like from a powerful punch. A sob broke free from her lungs as she pictured the scenario that must have taken place in that corridor and led to these injuries. Their guns were drawn, the very fact not promising any good. Another explosion shook the ground, and stones flew like shrapnel in all directions again. She should have been afraid, but something broke inside of her that very moment. She didn't really care anymore. She didn't have strength to run, and she wasn't leaving _him_ behind once again…

The growl of engine suddenly coming to life and reverberating through the car's entire form startled her, and she could swear it was the most pleasant and beautiful sound she had ever heard in her entire life. The control panel lighted up like a Christmas tree and a safety belt pinned her securely to the seat. Tires loudly complained at the mad acceleration – and they were tearing down the road, leaving the swearing attackers with nothing but traces of burned rubber on the asphalt.

x-x-x 

They were moving, away from the hotel, away from danger. They both were silent, composing their thoughts and trying to calm down. Cars, trees, people flew past them like a blurred background; only the sounds of rumbling engine and hammering heart existed for the two of them.

Rita tried to collect her thoughts, thinking frantically. Okay, so she was riding in the car that was driving itself, without her participation in the process. To say that it was freaky would be an understatement. Her self-preservation instinct was going crazy; her hands wanted to twitch up to the steering wheel, and legs threatened to reach down to the brake every time the Pontiac got close to other cars on the road. But the vehicle was managing just fine, all smooth acceleration and fluent turns. Rita found herself mesmerized by the movements of self-rotating steering wheel. It was like a sci-fi movie. Maybe there was some crazy fella following her in the other car with a joystick? Not really believing this theory after all she'd seen Rita turned around in her seat to glance back for a moment. As expected, she didn't spot anything suspicious in the mass of traffic behind them. All this wasn't really helping her relax, but, on the other hand, if there was one thing this situation had taught her, it was that it wasn't such a wild idea that Jazz was a car. So, essentially, if he was driving, that meant he was alive, right? Upon thinking down this path, she decided she didn't fucking care as long as it meant that Jazz was alive.

"…Jazz?" Rita asked tentatively, her voice trembling. She had to make sure…

The radio hissed for a second and then Jazz's voice calmly responded. "What's crackin'?"

Suddenly Rita smacked Jazz's steering wheel with her palms as hard as she could. "You stupid FUCK!" She shouted. "What the HELL were you doing there in that damn building? You scared the SHIT out of me! I thought you died!"

Silence.

Done with her outburst, Rita was now breathing heavily, trying to stop the tears that seemed to flow down her cheeks without her permission.

"Y'know, I care a lot 'bout ya, too," Jazz's voice came from the radio, and she could swear she heard a cocky smile in it.

Smug bastard. Rita let out a weak nervous laugh through her tears in an attempt to relieve an awful tension of the past hours. She finally let herself believe that they both were still alive, and that belief was plunging her into a state of euphoria.

Jazz's answering soft laugh felt like a mental embrace to her.

"Oh man," she let her head fall back against the headrest in exhaustion and smiled trying to wipe the moisture from her face. "Sorry for yelling, Jazz… and smacking, too."

"Ya okay, girl?" he asked softly, a twin of her smile in his voice.

She didn't correct him, or rebel against the endearment – at least it sounded like an endearment – deciding to give him one of her own. "That was supposed to be my line, cowboy. You're the one who got shot."

Instead of an answer he projected his holo to the passenger seat. Those familiar blue eyes were smiling at her with mischief, just like the first time she had seen him. Her gaze involuntarily dropped down to his chest and midsection. The shirt was clean, with no traces of blood on it. Unceremoniously, she reached her hand out and behind his back to touch the spots where the bullets had hit him. He didn't stop her, but instead leaned forward a bit and let her examine his body the way she wanted, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Her hand roamed carefully down his back. No injuries, no signs of violation… It was then when she suddenly realized that his body actually felt _solid_ under her fingers. The girl gave him a startled look and could force only one word from herself. "H-… How?"

Jazz, who had been enjoying her bold actions, lifted his brow. "You mean how 'm still alive? Well, I can't go ta the Pit from the "death" o' ma' holo-projection. But ma' original body's connected to its nervous system and tends ta shut down if the holo suffers severe damage, and needs ta reboot. Ya could see the process yourself." He nodded to her.

Rita shook her head and put both hands on the steering wheel. "No, I mean how is it that you're… real? Like… solid." She looked at him with curiosity.

"Oh," Jazz ran a hand through his unruly hair. "It's kinda… hard ta explain, Ratch would do it better. I'll juz say that it's a super-advanced technology that hasn't yet been invented here on Earth."

"But you hadn't been… real before," she managed, confused to no end.

Jazz got more comfortable in his seat and took a casual relaxed pose. "Well, ya see, all Transformers are actually equipped wit' a high-level holo-projector. But in ma' case it wasn't working properly, I got it… damaged a bit in battle. But now it's on, one hundred p'cent," he smiled and gave her a wink.

She was desperately trying to process this avalanche of new information. "So you… feel pain, right?" It wasn't really a question, for she had heard the answer there, in that building. She was sure she'd be hearing that sound in her nightmares for a long time.

"I feel everythin'. Pain included," he said simply. As if those bullets were nothing. As if it was normal to suffer physical damage for another being without a second thought, and shrug it off the next minute. No one had ever done that for her. Ever. She didn't know what exactly she felt, it was a full bucket of emotions, and it was impossible to name all the components of it, or to say which one prevailed.

"You are crazy, Jazz," she shook her head finally.

He shrugged and smiled. "So are you, girl."

She smiled back at him, and this time it felt good. Then seriousness returned to Rita's face. "How are Bumblebee and Ratchet?"

"Ironhide showed up. Our big an' brutal Master of Cannons," Jazz informed her. "It kinda ended the fight that very moment. They all are fine, we'll meet 'em at the base."

Ironhide. That had to be the fourth. Jazz had said there were five of them, so that left one more. Oh yeah, that Optimus-guy.

"What about those two…?" Rita asked, barely suppressing the shudder at the memory of her unsuccessful kidnappers.

"They 're prob'ly tryin' ta rub the ink off o' their fingers and posin' for a prison family album right now. The cops are there, too," Jazz explained with a chuckle.

"Oh," was all Rita could say at that.

"What's with yer arms, girl?" Jazz frowned. His fingers lightly touched the uncovered skin of her right arm, causing her to jump slightly at the unexpected contact and gently tracing multiple little cuts.

"Oh," Rita said again. It looked like it had become the only word she could say without difficulty. "I… There were explosions… I think the pieces of debris cut me," she mumbled, wondering why she hadn't noticed it before and couldn't feel the pain now. _Adrenaline probably._

"Did they hurt ya?" Jazz asked, looking her straight in the eyes. Rita knew who he was talking about. She tried to look calm as she shook her head.

"No… No, they didn't." He watched her for a second more, and then nodded, satisfied. "What are those… cuts on the… on your… hood?" She asked quietly. It was strange to think that a _hood_ of a car could be some_one_'s body part.

Jazz winced. "Got scratched up a bit," he said nonchalantly. "No big deal," he added with a smile. "Nuthin' that Doc can't fix."

The girl fell silent for a minute. She wanted to ask him a thousand of questions at once, so she was choosing where to start. "Uh… Let me get this straight. Those were… robots," she finally said. It wasn't exactly a question, more of a statement. It was hard to deny what her eyes had told her at the hotel's parking lot, and unless she had a hole in her head – which she had all reasons to suspect, by the way – she was pretty sure those were robots.

Jazz nodded. "Tha'z right. Ta answer a bunch o' questions ya must be dyin' ta ask, here's the story. We, the Autobots, 'the good guys,' as one o' ma' Earth friends calls us, - are at war with the Decepticons, 'the bad guys.' Both factions left our common home planet Cybertron in search o' the Allspark, the Energy Cube that used ta… used ta give life to transformers…" Jazz paused for a second, his brows meeting for a moment, and Rita opened her mouth to ask him about it, but he started speaking again. "The Allspark landed on Earth an' tha'z how the Cybertronian War relocated here. Two months ago the Autobots and the military forces of the US confronted the Decepticons in the battle for the Allspark that took place here, in Mission City. Ya'd probably seen those ruins in the center of it? Well, don' believe all that shit about 'extensive acts of terror' on the news channels. Those are the consequences o' that fight. The only good thing 'bout it was that Optimus and the guys won." Something was strange about this last statement, but, again, Rita didn't have a chance to form a question as Jazz continued. "But the Allspark was… destroyed," he frowned painfully not looking at Rita and paused again briefly. "Anyway, the leader o' the Decepticons, Megatron, was killed in that battle. But it looks like the 'Cons ain't gonna give up the war."

Rita stared at Jazz open-mouthed, trying to logically put everything into her abused brain. Her mind refused to believe any of this, but she'd already seen enough things that shattered the borders of her reality, so she had no reasons not to believe her bodyguard's words.

"But… If the Allspark was destroyed, what are they fighting for?" She finally formed the question.

Several seconds passed before Jazz replied quietly, "You."

Rita's eyes went wide, she searched Jazz's face for something that could explain this to her, or indicate that it was a stupid joke – but his blue gaze was unreadable. "Why?" She squeezed the word out of her lungs.

"Yer emittin' some kind of a signal that can be picked up only by the Cybertronian equipment. Before ya start askin', we don't know what the signal means, an' I'm almost ready ta bet ma' stereo system that the Decepticons don't know that either. But they sure wanna getcha, and those two goons who'd tried ta kidnap ya worked for them."

"Brilliant, just… brilliant," Rita muttered quietly. She thought of the hotel and the bullets that were undoubtedly meant for her. "Okay… Then why did they try to… to kill me if they needed me?"

"They'd rather bring their new leader Starscream yer body than let ya get away an' then pay for it wit' their lives," Jazz smirked, but there was no humor in that momentary quirk of his lips. "That's the way our enemy is."

That last bit of information stunned Rita into an absolute silence for good two minutes. It was one thing to know that you are being hunted down by two human criminals, and it felt totally different to learn that you are an object of the scientific "interests" of huge evil robots from another planet.

"Don' worry, they won't getcha. Not while ma' engine's workin'," Jazz winked at her, and indeed, the engine made a roaring sound, calming down to a deep vibrating growl that shook the entire car. The feeling was… unique, Rita forgot how to breathe for a moment.

Then it suddenly occurred to her that it was Jazz's _body_ she was currently sitting in. Moreover, she caught herself absently squeezing the steering wheel and stroking the leather of her seat with her thumb. Moreover, that very second the engine started _purring_ contentedly, and Jazz's holo-form relaxed against his seat, his body going limp and a somewhat dreamy smirk appearing on his lips. Her memory helpfully suggested to her the images of their first drive together when she'd thought that something was wrong with the car, since it was moving strangely. "_He's my alter-ego,"_ she remembered Jazz's words. "_I'm glad ya like him. An' I can assure ya he likes ya, too,"_ he'd said. Rita's brain screeched to a halt. The girl jerked her hands away from where they were touching the Autobot's interior and quickly put them on her lap, suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed.

Jazz turned his head to her. "Hey, I actually didn't mind that," he murmured, flashing her a smile, and Rita felt herself blushing like a schoolgirl. She certainly found Jazz's hologram attractive – how could she not, for God's sake? He chose his looks well – and the bastard knew it. As if to confirm her thoughts, Jazz's smile became a grin, and his eyes sparkled. But he had enough decency not to laugh at her aloud. It was a pretty stunning experience to be on the receiving end of a robot alien flirting, and it confused her to no end. She silently wondered if he was always like that. Unfortunately, this question couldn't be answered at the moment, and she decided to just change the topic.

"Um… So, those big metal guys who were fighting at the hotel's parking lot – they're… the same as you?" She asked him curiously.

"Basically, yeah," he nodded. "Though we all have different designs and personalities. Juz like humans."

Rita chuckled softly. "Humans don't have a 'design,' but yeah, I get what you mean. I take it, they can be cars like you, and you can be a robot like them?"

"Yup," he simply nodded.

"So… What's your robot-form like?" She tried to sound confident, but didn't succeed much.

Jazz quirked a lopsided grin at her. "Dontcha wanna know, huh," he teased playfully, as if they were chatting merely about what he'd had for breakfast that morning. Rita briefly wondered if the robots needed any food at all, but this question could wait for later. She creased her brows in thought, returning to the matter at hand.

Truthfully, the prospect of him showing her his "primary form" and of her being up close with one of those spooky huge creatures again was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and not in a very good way. But she pushed this fear aside. Logically thinking, if Jazz wanted to harm her, he'd have done it about a thousand times by now. And he wouldn't have caught those bullets for her in the first place, and he wouldn't have stopped that man near the café-bar. So there was probably nothing to worry about, at least for now.

"Well, yeah, I wanna know." This time it came out closer to the intended 'I'm a brave tiny human and I'm not afraid of metallic humanoid skyscrapers that could squish me with a tip of the small finger of their left hand and not even notice it' intonation, a daring streak underlining the girl's words. Though whom she was daring – him or herself – she wasn't sure. Probably both of them. But then again, she didn't think he even considered it a challenge. He didn't seem to mind anything, appearing almost _comfortable_ with the whole situation. Was his life always like that? Was it normal for him to almost die and tell others that they were a source of some idiotic signal and thus were being hunted for God only knows what kinds of experiments?

Rita's musings were cut short when the car suddenly slammed the brakes and took a sharp 90 degree turn, leaving the main road. She had only now noticed that they'd left the city and for some time had been moving down the highway. Well, not anymore.

"Hey! What-…?" Rita exclaimed, grabbing the door handle and the safety belt to keep her balance. She looked at Jazz's hologram with a start; he remained relaxed in his seat, his gaze directed straight ahead.

"Ya wanna see, I'll give ya somethin' ta look at," he drawled calmly.

These words sounded like a vague threat, but then a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, so natural, it caused Rita to snort in a wordless disbelief. No wonder his attempt at persuading her that he was her "assistant" had turned an absolute success – she could have sworn the guy was human to the bone, had she not known better.

They rolled to the secluded area covered with thick sprouts of tall trees from all sides, and slowed to a stop. Rita didn't move, unsure of what to do. She looked at Jazz's holo-form that winked at her and dissipated from the passenger seat. Rita's door opened with a soft click, and Jazz's voice came from the radio, "Ladies an' gentlemen, thanks fur choosin' the Autobot Express. Don' forget yer stuff on yer way out, unless ya want it squished."

Rita chuckled mentally. Not that she had time to take anything with her from the hotel… Anyway, it was undoubtedly a tipoff to step out of the vehicle, and Rita followed the request, trying to calm her quivering insides as she moved away from the Pontiac.

And then the car she'd been sitting in just a minute ago started to… change.

The hood fell forward, as if the Solstice had broken up in half, front wheels slid up and folded back with a quiet whirr, and the rear part of the car just… fell apart, producing loud clanking sounds that made her jump and take a step back.

A long metallic part – it looked like an arm – protruded from the chaotic whirl of components and braced on the ground firmly, the rest rising up in the air, still shifting shape. Rita was almost positive she saw two legs – and then whatever was before her performed a hand-stand spin that looked very much like one of those street break dance stunts, landing on its feet like a spring.

Standing in front of her, outlined against the smoky-purple abyss of the morning sky, was a robot; his arms were folded over his chest, posture relaxed, and where his eyes should have been, there was a black mirrored polished shiny... _thing_ that reminded her of sunglasses.

Rita's mouth hung open. She started to doubt that all this was a good idea.

The quiet stillness was interrupted by one of the robot's shoulder plates falling away from his arm with a complaining squeak and hanging down on a loose hinge. He inserted it back into place with a single forceful punch of his fist and resumed his lazy stance as if nothing had happened.

Come to think of it, this should have been funny, but Rita lost her voice and all control over the muscles of her face, just gaping up in mute astonishment.

She didn't know what was freaking her out more: his size, or the fact that he looked and moved just like a human. She'd so much prefer if he resembled something… well, not so animate. But instead, this creature before her combined the lethal power of metal _and_ the human flexibility – not a good thing in her book. Small scared voice was miserably mumbling in her head: "_It's alive; it's big and strong, and also clever, armed and dangerous. We're in deep shit, aren't we…?"_

Gathering her wits, Rita willed herself to stand upright and hid her shaking hands behind her back, fighting the instinct that told her to back away, turn around and fucking _run_ already. She'd had enough fainting sessions for one day; her body wouldn't forgive her if she had another one. But she sure as hell felt like doing just that when Jazz came down on one knee in front of her and leaned forward, reducing the distance of their silent communication to several frightening inches…

_**The End of Chapter 7**_

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_**A/N:**__ Sorry, sorry, I just couldn't hold back my twisted sense of humor that wanted to embarrass Jazz by spoiling his transformation show-off-fest :) I think there was too much dialogue in this chapter, but after intense action our poor heroes needed some relaxation; besides, I can't see Rita witnessing all those strange things and not wanting to ask a bazillion of questions. By the way, Happy New Year, everyone! Be safe; see you in the next chapter ;)_


	8. Welcome To My World

**_A/N:_**_ Hey everyone, here I am, back with yet another update (omg, I'm still alive, and I keep writing, I can't believe it!). It's been _ages_ since the last one, and I am really sorry about that. It's just that this summer turned out to be not a vacation and rest time, but a period of insane working :sigh: In order to bribe you into _not _killing me for such a long delay, I bring you _two_ chapters at once, and a little surprise… :drum roll, please:… pictures of Jazz's holo-form! Geez Lola, you'll say, you couldn't draw if your life depended on it. Yeah, but I think I managed to hit my head somehow while taking a wild ride on a bike not long ago (the guy who gave me a ride was crazy too; I think he killed the acceleration). It surely would explain why I got this crazy idea of how I could create a pic of Jazz without actually drawing anything… All hail The Sims 2!! XD Yep, exactly. I created a perfect Jazz-sim, just how I imagined him. The link to his "photo-session" is in my profile, you can find it in the section with information on this fic. A little "warning", though: um… ladies, buckle up, just in case :evil giggles: Kristie, my dearest beta, thank you, sweetie, for your help and support! :hugs:_

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**_Chapter 8 – "Welcome To My World"_**

The robot and the human were studying each other in silence. Neither dared move, taking in the other's appearance.

Jazz knew perfectly well that they both needed medical attention. But he had reasons to be here with her before they showed up at the base. As Rita's guardian and protector, he had to make sure the girl didn't feel threatened at least in his presence before introducing her to the others, what with him being the smallest of the Autobots and with Ironhide having stunningly "courteous" manners, or lack of them thereof, in regards of new acquaintances.

But here she was, staring up at him and trembling. Her eyes seemed huge on her pale bewildered face that was smudged with dirt and dried tears. Her hair, still damp from the shower, appeared tangled and unkempt. Clothes was torn or cut here and there, and covered with dust and soot. It looked like she'd gone through Pit and back which made all her previous attempts to clean herself futile. Not surprising, really.

From such a short distance Jazz could hear her uneven breathing and the wild thumping of her heart. They were so close, Rita could have touched him if she chose to reach out an arm, but she held both of her bruised hands behind her back and just stood there, looking at him in wordless terror.

"Scared?" he murmured softly so as not to give the girl a heart attack.

Despite the Autobot's attempt to appear unthreatening she jumped a little at the sound of his deep voice. She noticed that it sounded like Jazz's "human" voice, but it had somehow gained new harmonics; just hearing this deep rumbling sound, one could tell it belonged to someone really, really _big_. Rita was pretty proud of herself for still being vertical and conscious at this point, given the fact that a huge robotic creature had just invaded her personal space and asked her if she was freaking scared. Rita's inner little voice burst into a hysterical laughter – a comical and miserable sound. There was no point in lying, Jazz could probably see straight through her anyways. So she wordlessly nodded, finding her own voice unresponsive.

The lower half of Jazz's metallic face formed a small smile that looked almost like a smirk. "Hey, I ain't gonna hurt ya, girl. I'm of the 'good guys,' remember?" he said in the same calm and soothing manner. "Anyone tries ta mess with ya, I kick their aft big time, that's the deal."

Rita was silent for a few moments, mesmerized by the way this creature's – _Jazz's_, she reminded herself – lips moved as he spoke. "…'Aft?'" she finally echoed absentmindedly. It was probably not the best thing to ask of all that went through her head, but her mouth seemed to have disconnected from her brain and gained a mind of its own.

"Afterburner. Cybertronian slang. Stands fer 'ass,'" he explained without as much as blinking a figurative eye.

"Oh… Cool," she said weakly. Obviously, her speech had reduced to one-syllable words. Fascinating.

"You bet," Jazz let out a mechanical sound similar to a chuckle. "Ya'll get ta hear all kinds of Cybertronian swear words if ya ever see Ratch in a foul mood. He's a walkin' curse dictionary."

Watching this unbelievable being named Jazz chat with her in a friendly and cheerful manner like nothing was wrong in the world both amused Rita and helped her calm down a bit. She managed to let go of her fear enough to look at Jazz. _Really_ look at him, past the initial shock.

While changing into his robot form, Jazz had been moving with grace and ease, but being up-close with him made her see the numerous little scrapes, dents and burns on his metallic body that looked worn, weathered, and heavy. She could see wires and hundreds of small details that made it apparent that he was an extremely sophisticated creature. His entire appearance had no analogues among the technologies she'd ever seen or heard of, and just didn't go with the manner he was speaking in, strikingly human-like and simple.

Now that he'd changed his form, she knew what part of him was formed by the trashed hood; his chest. Judging by the curves of the edges of the three long ugly gashes there, whatever had hurt Jazz had sunk into his left shoulder and had been dragged almost to the center of his massive chest, before it had been yanked out abruptly, causing the three unbent shreds of metal to protrude over the otherwise smooth surface. If Jazz could feel pain, that must have hurt like hell.

That observation made Rita flinch inwardly. Sure, Jazz could reboot his holo-form and start over as good as new, all smiles and easy body language; but he couldn't hide the wounds that covered his real body. The girl's face took on a pained expression. She jumped a little when a tiny blue spark ran along one of the gashes with a slight crackle.

"'Got scratched up a bit,' huh?" she asked in a quiet voice, recalling Jazz's careless comment on the injury from when they were back on the road.

The saboteur wasn't used to humans caring for him – with the exception of Sam and Mikaela, – and it was a pleasant feeling. He chuckled softly. "'m fine. It could'a been worse."

_Worse?_ Rita repeated silently. For the Nth time since their escape from the hotel she thought of the events of the night. Jazz had saved her life three times, and got seriously hurt twice – because of her. "I'm sorry," she said miserably. "It's my fault."

Jazz's facial expression changed into something unreadable. "No Rita, it ain't," his voice was firm, though the tone still held softness. "I'm the only one ta blame if I wasn't fast enough ta avoid gettin' fragged. It's got nuthin' ta do with ya, 'k?" His tone wasn't giving her a chance to argue, so Rita just nodded reluctantly. "Though," the sly smile appeared on Jazz's lips, and Rita found it strange how his metallic face half hidden behind the 'sunglasses' could be so expressive. "If ya feel sorry, I could use some extra seat massages, a'ight?"

She couldn't believe her ears. A small smile tugged at her lips despite the nervousness that still held a tight grip on her. _I wouldn't count on that just yet, cowboy_, she thought with a single shake of her head, resuming looking him over.

Rita traced the outline of Jazz's helmet with her gaze, for the first time noting strings of strange hieroglyphic symbols on its both sides. Unknown language. Alien language.

And it finally dawned upon her that she was actually contacting an _alien_. How many people of Earth have been granted such an amazing opportunity? She was definitely one of the lucky ones, and the realization thrilled her, awakening a wave of awed curiosity. She suddenly wanted to make sure it wasn't a dream.

"Uh… Can I-?" Rita asked quietly, bringing a hand from behind her back and reaching it out slowly towards the Autobot.

"Sure." He nodded slightly, pleased that she had decided on the physical contact.

With great caution, Rita closed the distance between them and touched the tips of her fingers to his metallic cheeks hesitantly, remembering the stray blue spark that had run along the edge of the Autobot's chest wound earlier and half expecting an electric shock to stun her. When nothing happened, she laid her palms flat against the surface, feeling the warmth coming from Jazz's body. She suddenly became aware of the morning chill surrounding them, and an involuntary shudder went through her at the difference of temperatures.

Jazz didn't move, allowing her to explore him. Rita's tiny hands slid slowly along the hieroglyphic tattoos, tentatively feeling the whimsically curved characters. She would like to know what they said, but didn't dare ask at the moment, simply absorbing the sight.

After a minute or so, Rita gathered her courage and finally settled her gaze on Jazz's black visor. Somewhere under it were his eyes, and no doubt they were watching her. She wanted to know what they looked like, what that mirrored surface was hiding – but all she could see was her reflection there: frightened face, messy hair… It pushed her mind from an awed daze back to harsh reality.

As if on cue, Rita's cell-phone burst with mad ringing.

"Damn!" she cursed under her breath, jerking away from Jazz at the sudden sound, her shaking hands rummaging through her jeans pockets in search of her cell-phone. "Hello?" She breathed out after pushing the dial button, trying to calm her racing heartbeat.

_"Rita! Thank goodness you are alive! Are you okay? Where are you?"_ Michael was raining questions down on her, not even letting her say anything in reply. What a perfect freaking timing…

"Uh…" Her brain was in turmoil. She started thinking frantically how to explain her current whereabouts to her manager, when Jazz's kneeling form came into motion, bringing her confused thoughts to complete and hopeless disarray. The Autobot was rising up from the ground to his full intimidating height; once he straightened, he started changing his form again, rotating limbs and shifting parts. "Uh…" Rita drawled indistinctly into the phone, for the second time that night watching the miracle of transformation that was taking place mere yards from her with wide eyes. "Well…" The same silver Pontiac Solstice with disfigured hood sat in front of her, and the holo-projection of Jazz was walking towards her. The thinking process in Rita's head finally snapped out of the 'pause' mode and resulted in a full sentence. "If- If I told you that aliens took me for a couple of experiments, you wouldn't believe me, would you, Michael?" She spoke lamely into the phone, unable to tear her eyes away from the approaching Jazz's intense gaze.

Jazz gestured for her to switch to the speaker phone, and she pushed the needed button just in time for Michael to respond with obvious irritation, _"Of course not. It's a bad time for joking, Rita! We are-"_ He was interrupted by some noise on the other end of the line, and another male voice that belonged to the drummer of her band yelled, _"We're goin' nuts here, sis! The hotel's trashed, cops're everywhere! Where the hell are ya?!"_

She cringed at the sheer volume of the last question. Before she could answer, there was noise again, then the muffled sounds of Michael's voice that muttered, _"Give me the phone, Bobby!"_, and then spoke again to her, _"Rita, we are worried. Where are you?"_

That's when Jazz decided to intervene. He stepped closer to Rita and took over the conversation. "Mr. Weller, this is Jack Forte, of NAA. Rita's fine and she's with me. We have reasons ta believe she's in danger, so as of now I have direct orders ta get her to a safe place. Of course, the protocol forbids me to inform you where that place is. I hope for yer understanding, sir."

A stunned silence stretched for almost three seconds, before the phone erupted with several shouting voices at once. It looked like Michael was using speaker phone too and Rita's bandmates had heard Jazz's statement as well. After a moment of absolute chaos Michael's voice could be heard, _"Mr. Forte, with all due respect, I would like to remind you of the upcoming show, which is the essential reason of our arrival to Mission City. You having _"reasons to believe"_ Rita is in danger is not reason enough to put the show at risk! As the manager of the band, I must insist that you bring her to us at once!"_

"I will, sir, but not now, it's too dangerous. Like I said, I'm takin' her to a safe place."

_"But- But this is ridiculous! I don't even know you! How can I be sure that-"_

"Mr. Weller," Jazz's voice gained force; not in volume, but in the amount of authority that was put into his intonation. "NAA is an association that's workin' in close cooperation with military forces of the US. This is Rita's _life_ we're talkin' about here. Ya say the hotel's trashed. We say _she_ was the _target_. And we're _tryin'_ ta investigate an' protect her. If I were in yer place, sir, I wouldn't question the association's actions and motives, but would wisely use the offered help. Yer the manager of the band, right? Well, I'll get Rita ta the show in time, an' ya'll get yer business done. Now please let me do mine. _Sir._" The last word was a significant period in Jazz's speech. The Autobot's jaw was clenched in determination; his blue eyes now had a cold steely glint to them.

Rita could imagine the expression of absolute bewilderment on Michael's face. Judging by the absence of any sounds on the other end of the line, her manager and the members of her band were stunned. Jazz crossed his arms over his chest, his stance and tight line of his lips suggesting the highest degree of stubbornness, even though his 'opponents' couldn't see him. She had to say something before it all grew into a disaster.

"Uh… Michael?" Rita asked and got a gloomy 'yes?' for an answer. "Michael, I'm fine," she said tiredly, running her hand through her tangled hair. "Jack saved my life not half an hour ago, I-… I wouldn't be talking to you right now if it wasn't for him…" She was deliberately staring at the phone in her hand while saying this in order to avoid looking at Jazz; the fact that someone risked their life in favor of saving hers made her feel uneasy and for some reason guilty. "Don't worry about me, I'll be okay, and I'll be at Jet Club by eight for sound-check. Jack will see to it…"

Funny, Rita thought, only several hours ago Michael had been trying to talk her into going with Jazz, and now the tables turned so drastically, and she was the one attempting to reason with her manager. She wearily listened to the stiff silence on the other end of the line, and hoped she played her peacemaker part well enough to stop this argument. If Michael didn't believe her now, then there was no way in hell she was going to explain to him any of what Jazz had told her.

After a few moments of thinking Michael finally agreed. _"Alright,"_ he said. _"But I'm still having trouble with trusting anyone I don't know personally. I don't care about Mr. Neville's reputation; he's a stranger to me. Rita, if you are late, even for _one_ minute, I'm going to the police, or calling a lawyer or something…"_

"I won't be late," she assured him, and addressed her bandmates, "Hey there guys, don't worry about me." Three voices mumbled 'A'ight sis,' 'Yeah, okay' and 'See ya Rita' in reply.

_"Be careful. And keep in touch. And I'm not exactly asking,"_ Michael instructed her sternly.

"Okay." With a sigh of relief Rita flipped the phone closed, giving Jazz a weary smile. "That… went well."

Jazz responded with a similar smile. "Yeah, better than it coulda been. C'mon, we gotta get ta the base," he moved to the car, but stopped when Rita didn't even twitch towards it, instead staring at it in dumb silence. "What?" He asked, confused.

Rita's eyes shifted to his human face. "Tell me- I didn't just dream all of this up," she made a vague gesture in the Pontiac's direction, which brought another smile – a brighter one – upon Jazz's lips.

"No girl, ya didn't juz' dream all o' this up, an' it ain't no some 'Punk'd' show. I really am a robot, slash car, slash this nice guy yer talkin' ta," he pointed towards his chest with both thumbs. "Now, let's getcha ta safety before anyone else tries ta talk us outta this."

This time he put one warm palm on the small of her back protectively to escort her to the car, and the tired girl decided to not think and to just obey. It was so much easier than resisting the reality and swimming against the proverbial current.

Back on the road, they sunk into strained silence. Jazz's eyes were fixed on the road; he was thinking God only knew about what. Rita was sitting in the passenger seat quietly, trying to fit the fact that this car truly was a being from another planet into her mind that by this point seemed to have been turned inside out and frozen numb in that uncomfortable position. The uneasy feeling of having no control over the situation made her painfully aware of the fact that she was only a small weak human, for some unfathomable reason literally caught up in the cross-fire of an alien conflict.

"Y' know, I wasn't lyin' ta Michael," Jazz said all of a sudden, interrupting her unhappy thoughts.

"What?" She turned to him, a little taken aback by the statement.

"I wasn't lyin' when I told him that we Autobots were workin' with the military forces of the US. Everythin' I said was true; we're juz not called NAA, 's all," he shrugged, still not looking at her. "I didn't yell at him for nuthin'… I wasn't juz tryin' ta get things done my way, y'know… He juz wasn't right."

Rita gave a long confused look to her bodyguard, allowing herself to study him. The line of his lips was tight, eyebrows furrowed slightly, and overall his facial expression spoke of deep thought. So, it seemed that even though Jazz was just as much a victim of circumstances as she was, he wasn't seeing her like a mere tool of gaining victory in an interplanetary war. He wasn't seeing her life as something insignificant enough to rip apart without second thought for the sake of his race, wasn't breaking everything that she was in favor of the Greater Goal. He wasn't looking at her like at something unimportant. He respected people who were dear to her; he respected her way of life. The emotion he was showing towards the issue with Michael meant a lot to her. It made a soft wave of respect and gratitude spread somewhere in her chest.

She didn't know what to say for a minute, and then gave a small smile to Jazz. "Well… It's not only about business for him, too. He's more worried about me than anything else. I've learnt that through the years we've been working together… He means good, even if from time to time his stubbornness confronts mine, and then we're hewing sparks out of each other's armor, figuratively speaking," she laughed quietly, shaking her head at the memories of numerous heated, but good-natured arguments with her manager.

"Sparks, huh," Jazz laughed along with her. He finally turned to her, and she locked gazes with him, enjoying the way his eyes were smiling now – not smugly, or teasingly, but easily, friendly.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the trip, but this time there was no discomfort in silence between them, only the relaxed companionship.

**_End of Chapter 8_**

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**_A/N:_**_ C'mon, c'mon, click to the next chapter! It's already there :) And, y'know, reviews are greatly appreciated ;)_


	9. Revelations

**_Chapter 9 – "Revelations"_**

The Autobot headquarters turned out to be an old abandoned research base situated in a secluded area of desert and closed from any accidental invasion. It had been given by the government to the Autobots as a place to stay and live. Rita learned from Jazz that in the two months that had passed since the destruction of the Allspark the base had undergone noticeable changes, the main cause of them being that it hadn't been initially designed as a home for such creatures as 30-feet alien robots. But now it was properly equipped with recharge stations, repair hangar and even a small firing range (on a special request of Ironhide).

But, of course, the most interesting parts of the base were its inhabitants. Rita had already seen Ratchet and Bumblebee – or rather she'd seen both their holo-forms, and also Bee's primary form (which honestly disturbed her a little at first, since the only memory the girl had connected with it was the fight of two metallic creatures in front of the hotel, accompanied by explosions and a stone rain; which was kind of hard to forget).

Ratchet's robotic appearance had a strange resemblance to his human hologram; same stoic face, same unhurried movements, same proud posture… Just like his holo-form, he was surrounded with an aura of high intelligence and condescension common for scientists, and, truth to be told, it made perfect sense. The way he spoke made Rita expect that he'd push glasses up his nose ridge any moment with his index finger (of course, the medical officer wasn't wearing any glasses, but still, he sounded like he might have).

Ironhide was another story altogether. "Big an' brutal Master of Cannons," as Jazz had characterized him before, didn't exactly cover the extent of intimidation skills and the size of the weapons the black mech possessed. Upon a brief introduction, Rita got her face full with his two enormous fists that uncurled into a pair of guns so big she had to remind herself of her usefulness to these creatures to keep from wetting her jeans right then and there. "Like my babies?" he'd said. Cowering behind Jazz's legs wasn't in her plans, and it kinda wounded her already shredded pride, but well, she didn't have that much choice left. And she didn't want to even think of what could occur if her answer happened to be "no"…

And then, the last, but not the least member of the Autobot community, - Optimus Prime. _That_ guy was really _huge_. In comparison to him Jazz was tiny (not that she'd ever risk telling that to her silver guardian; males are too sensitive about everything concerning size, and probably that unspoken law spreads to all sentient species). However, her previous 'up-close and personal' greeting sessions with her guardian and Ironhide seemed to have had an effect of an inoculation from mindless fear; after several fruitless attempts at intelligent speaking, she'd finally squeezed a couple of polite phrases from herself to answer Optimus' just as polite questions, and was infinitely happy when the short "interrogation" came to an end, and Ratchet took charge, leading the way to the medbay.

So, now she was lying on a table of grand proportions (robot-sized, she decided after a quick visual estimation), with a dozen of wires attached with suckers to her arms, upper chest and forehead that were picking up her vitals, and a big machine sliding on a relay above her that slowly ran a bluish thin line of light along her body and produced a low, soft hum. Ratchet had told her that this thing would make a full scan that could probably explain what was wrong with her… The girl didn't allow herself to get her hopes high on that account; she just let this machine do whatever it was supposed to do, and simply relaxed, seeing that the experience wasn't painful in the least.

Bumblebee was sitting beside Rita's table, ready to help in any way that could be needed, his large blue optics trained on her. Even though, to the girl's relief, the scout acted unconditionally friendly towards her, he for some reason preferred to stay silent most of the time. When she asked him about his unwillingness to talk much (which probably wasn't polite, but by that point she didn't really care), he just shrugged and replied with a cryptic and very human "Old habits die hard."

Ratchet busied himself with Jazz's injuries on the nearby table. The silver saboteur lay there obediently, at the mercy of the CMO. He turned his visored face towards Rita and sent a bright smile her way, which obviously was intended to reassure her that everything was alright. The gesture made one side of the girl's mouth twitch in response.

It still felt insanely weird to be so close to these astounding creatures. Rita didn't have much to do except for watching the three of them, but she was more than content with it. Inspecting Jazz's torn chest with his multi-tooled hands Ratchet kept making quiet clicking and buzzing sounds. Rita had a feeling those were not sounds of happiness.

"So doc, what's the prognosis?" Jazz asked after several minutes of examination. "Will I live, or what?"

"Of course you'll live, Jazz," grumbled the medic, never stopping his task. "But I'm afraid I'll have to replace the entire hood section, since it is ruined beyond any repair."

"That's okay wit' me. Shouldn't take long, eh?"

"Yes, but the bad news is that I don't have this particular spare part at the moment. You shall have to wait until I make a new one from scratch."

"Aw man," Jazz half-whined, half-mumbled under his breath. "Of all the spare parts missin', it just hadda be the hood! How'm I supposed ta show ma' aft in public now? Had I been a road roller, or somethin' just as ugly, it woulda only added more charm ta ma' looks, a'ight, but when yer a _Pontiac_ fraggin' _Solstice_ missin' a hood, people are juz gonna point their fingers at ya, an'-"

Ratchet's broad shoulders hunched down sharply, and he let out a loud hissing sound that had very much in common with a human sigh of extreme exasperation. Rita saw his apt fingers shoot to Jazz's neck at a lightning speed. The saboteur's speech was cut off right in the middle of his long rant. To Rita's absolute horror, he jerked on the table once, and then slumped against it, letting out a whining mechanical drone that lowered slowly in pitch and volume until it faded to nothingness. Just like back at the hotel, when Jazz had shut down while in his vehicle form.

"Jazz!" Rita gasped in fear after a moment of speechless shock; the beeping of the machine monitoring her heart rate escalated considerably. Watching her silver guardian's unresponsive form with huge eyes, she gripped the edge of her table and tried to sit up.

Ratchet turned his flashing optics in her direction, his face a mask of stern concentration mixed with irritation. "Bumblebee," he barked once, and the yellow Autobot by her side hastily placed one of his large fingers to the center of her chest and pushed down gently, preventing her movement.

"Please, don't move, Rita, the scanner is going to collect the wrong data!" Bumblebee exclaimed, looking at her with pleading blue optics that seemed even bigger than before. "Jazz is – and will be – perfectly fine! Ratchet merely put him into a manual recharge mode; it's a Cybertronian equivalent of a human anesthesia, but without any harmful consequences. This is needed to make the medic's work easier and faster," he explained hurriedly, trying to soothe her.

That was probably the longest speech Bumblebee had given her since their acquaintance. He looked sincere, too, and was actually demonstrating what could be called a very convincing puppy-dog look. Rita watched the yellow scout for a moment, aware of his finger preventing her further movement, threw another concerned glance towards her unconscious guardian, and then settled down again, relaxing bit by bit. After all, Ratchet didn't look like a homicidal maniac; in fact, he – Rita was rather surprised by it – started humming some tune quietly, resuming his work, in full medic-the-repairman mode.

For another several minutes that strange tune was the main sound that filled the room beside the buzzing of the scanner and periodical soft clanging of the CMO's tools against Jazz's armor. Rita had never heard anything like that tune. No Earth musical instrument and no human voice could possibly perform it, because apart from standard tone sounds there also were different mechanical noises incorporated in it; they weren't tearing the phrases apart, but were rather creating a unique exotic mood. She wondered if maybe it was some king of a national music of Cybertron, with intricate passages and hidden meaning that seemed to almost remind her of something, but slipped away as soon as she tried to catch it… Music from another planet. From a dead planet…

"Um… Jazz- told me about the war you're all part of…" She said quietly, starting a conversation with Bumblebee who had fallen into silence beside her again. "He told me about the Allspark having been destroyed, and about the loss of your home planet it had caused… I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay…" The yellow 'bot replied in a soft tone, though it was obvious that it was anything but okay. Like a deep wound that had stopped bleeding and turned into a scar, but still ached just as bad. "It was the only way. The lesser of two evils, as you humans say… If the Decepticons had managed to lay their hands on the Allspark, it would have been much worse, trust me on that… But the Cube still had done one last miracle before it ceased to exist," Bumblebee concluded fondly, with a small smile in his voice. When he said nothing more, Rita's eyebrow arched slightly in silent question. The Autobot's optics that were watching her closely shined brighter for a second, he cocked his yellow head to one side. "It brought Jazz back from the dead," he explained as if it was something she should have known.

The softness of his tone had nothing to do with the harsh meaning of his words. Rita was stunned. "W- what?"

"Oh, I guess he didn't tell you. I thought as much." Bee's voice indicated that the scout was smiling, even though his protecting face plates didn't allow Rita to see the actual smile. After a little pause the yellow Autobot became serious again. "He had been killed during the battle for the Allspark. He stepped up against Megatron so that the rest of us and the squad of human soldiers that fought by our side had some time to fall back and regroup for the next attack…" He paused briefly, and then finished quietly, "He didn't stand a chance. Megatron tore him in two with his bare hands. It was an almost instant deactivation."

Rita's eyes got huge as saucers and momentarily shifted to the recharging silver mech lying on the other table. For the second time that morning her cardio-scanner started beeping frantically, but the girl was too lost in her thoughts to register it. Her gaze slid from Jazz's strong long legs up to his narrow but powerful hips, armored chest, broad shoulders, and impressive arms, stopping on his immobile face and black visor under the two-horned helmet… Even relaxed and unconscious, he looked like a mighty and battered war machine. She wondered what the size of Megatron must have been if he had been able to do something like that to Jazz. She tried to imagine the scene, and had to stifle the sudden wave of nausea. All of the Autobots were so human-like, so intelligent, and… _alive_. Tearing any of them in two sounded just… _wild_.

"After the victory of the Human-Autobot forces Ratchet used the last shard of the Allspark to repair and reactivate Jazz," Bumblebee continued. "Took him a lot of time, efforts and burned circuits, both Jazz's and his own; we feared he wouldn't succeed. But he's a fantastic medic, one of the best in the whole history of Cybertron, and he managed to do something no one had done before, even in theory. So Jazz is with us again, and he bears the last piece of our world in his chest."

The scout fell silent, letting the weight of this information fully settle between them. Rita turned to Bumblebee, and was now studying his alien face and those big sky-blue optics. She didn't know what to say. What could a tiny human say to a giant robot in such a situation? Yesterday she wouldn't have thought that there was intelligent life beyond the species of Earth, and now – to learn that there is a race of sentient robots, and that their home world had died, leaving them trapped on the small blue planet in the Solar system… She was familiar with loneliness, and it must have been what they all felt. But she couldn't bring the Allspark back. There was nothing she could do. She could only listen helplessly to the story of war, death and life that Bumblebee was telling her.

"He's a hero," Bee continued in a soft murmur, and there was pride and admiration in the yellow bot's voice now. "Had Cybertron been alive and inhabited, Jazz would have been honored and respected by all our people for what he had done. But…" Bumblebee's shoulders moved slightly in a half-shrug, "…it's the five of us now. Not that much of recognition for a heroic deed like that," the Autobot chuckled sadly.

Once again, Rita looked at Ratchet's hands removing Jazz's damaged chest plate with care and practiced confidence. She remembered the awful events at the hotel, and Jazz's dismissive shrugs and casual attitude later. "I- don't think it matters to him, Bee," she said quietly.

After a long pause the yellow bot nodded mutely in agreement, and they fell silent again. Rita didn't mind. She should have felt uncomfortable discussing Jazz "behind his back," while he was in the same room unaware of this conversation – but strangely, she wasn't.

So, behind his striking appearance and smug smiles lay a selfless courage and a thoughtful personality. And all of that in a silver robotic body. Who'd have thought…?

**_x-x-x_**

Familiar lines of symbols ran through Jazz's CPU that was slowly powering up. As soon as his optics came online, Ratchet's face appeared in his line of vision.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," chuckled the medic, tapping one finger on his helmet.

Jazz groaned in annoyance. "Ya didn't hafta do that, Doc."

"So we are touchy-feely now?" Ratchet kept on making fun of the saboteur, moving away from the repair table as soon as he made sure the patient was alright.

"That ain't what I meant, an' ya know it," Jazz grumbled, checking his motor functions by clenching and unclenching his fists and bending his legs. "Ya didn't hafta knock me out like that."

"Well, excuse me for needing silence to work effectively. You were too loud for my liking, Jazz; I simply had to take measures, nothing personal."

"Whatever," the silver bot snorted, sitting on the table and looking down at himself. He sighed upon seeing his chest armor removed. "So how long are ya gonna need ta make a new plate?"

"Several Earth hours," Ratchet threw over his shoulder, busy with sorting his tools at the work station. "You'll have a perfect hood by this evening, I promise."

"That's good," Jazz nodded and looked around, finding the rest of the medbay empty. "Where's Rita?"

"She went through the scanning procedure successfully, but the computer will need time to analyze the data and show the precise results. I tended to the girl's wounds and directed her to one of the spare rooms to rest. I'd recommend you to keep her company… in case Ironhide gets bored and decides to take a closer look at our new human friend." The two of them laughed at that, and Jazz stood up on his feet, still feeling just a tad bit dizzy from the forced recharge, but recovering quickly.

"Thanks, Ratch," he said with a sincere smile. No matter how much he grumbled and complained, they both knew he was grateful to the medic. For giving him one more life; for fixing his aft thousands of times before and after that.

"It's my job," Ratchet turned to the saboteur, nodding just slightly. No matter how many times he repeated that the entire Autobot squad knew it was more than just a job for him. "Now get out of here; I have work to do, and I don't need audience."

"Got it, Doc!" Jazz grinned and raised his palms in surrender, happy to comply and leave the medbay.

He headed to the usually unoccupied part of the base, searching for his charge. She was probably sleeping, and he tried not to make too much noise so as not to wake her up. He had a suspicion about where the human girl might be; in the spare storage room that he and Bumblebee had cleaned up and equipped accordingly for the occasions when Sam and Mikaela had to stay the night at the base.

Jazz's suspicions were confirmed as soon as the saboteur turned the corner and saw the door to the aforementioned room opened. The mech smiled to himself and headed straight to the rectangle of light that fell to the dark floor of the corridor. Having reached the robot-sized entrance, Jazz stopped on the threshold and took a look inside.

The room contained a table, a couple of chairs, one large bed and one small one, all human-sized. Rita had obviously picked the small bed as her resting place. The girl was curled up on her side, fully clothed, in an instinctively-defensive pose Jazz had seen her perform at the hotel, when she'd learned his true identity, with her legs drawn to her upper body and her arms holding her knees. But she wasn't sleeping; she was staring at him. And the moment their gazes met Jazz could see just how tired she was. Rita's skin was paler than usual, and there were dark circles around her weary eyes.

"Ya should be asleep," he said simply.

She paused before responding. "I can't. My head's killing me."

It might have been the result of emotional distress or the consequence of her strange attack when her blood pressure had jumped… "Does Doc know?"

"Yeah, he gave me some pills, but they're not working," she said in a weak voice.

The mech took a moment to utilize his internet connection, and then made a decision. He stepped into the room, went to the far wall and transformed into his secondary form. Then activated his holo-form and walked to the large bed, occupying one side of it.

"C'mere," he said, looking at the stunned Rita.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"I made a research on the web. There's an opinion that magnetic influence can sooth or lessen pains. Won't hurt ta try, hmm?"

"Magnetic… what?" She was still too surprised to take any action.

"Long story. Juz lemme do my thing, 'k?" He suggested, tapping his palm lightly on the free space beside him, silently repeating his invitation.

Rita frowned, studying him, weighing her options. "'K, do your thing then," she mumbled in defeat after several seconds of strained contemplation, and stood from her bed. She crossed the room and lowered herself beside Jazz. He immediately drew her to himself, making her back rest against his abdomen; he needed her there for what he was about to do. Though he was careful while guiding her, he was also persistent, knowing that after all she'd seen since yesterday's evening she was fearful of the Autobots, including Jazz, and therefore needed some persuasion to be this close to him.

"Ya comfortable?" The saboteur murmured in a low voice. He was asking for permission to touch her.

"Mm-hmm," slowly, she rested her head on his chest. Permission granted.

He ran his fingers over her auburn hair once, twice, feeling her body tense in misgiving. Then buried his hands carefully in the soft strands, touching his pads to the warm skin underneath, searching for the problem spots. Rita's quiet whimper told him that he'd found them. He stilled his hands, concentrated and gave a slight pull with his magnetic field. Then moved his hands and repeated the action.

After a minute or two the girl relaxed finally, her body going softer and sinking into his protective embrace. Once her pain lost its excruciating edge she gave a pleased low moan and moved into a more comfortable position, her cheek now pressed to his chest. He kept his soothing ministrations, registering her breath and heart rate slow down gradually. She was falling asleep, too tired to stay awake till the end of the healing massage.

"I know who you are…" she mumbled faintly into his chest with her eyes closed, and it sounded like she had almost reached her personal dream-land.

Jazz didn't respond to that statement. He couldn't help smiling – humans were so funny sometimes, with funny habits born from the autonomous functions of their organic bodies which were not always controlled by their brain. Like sleep-talking, or sleep-walking, or sleep-snuggling…

But Rita's next slurred words left Jazz staring into space in thoughtful silence for another hour or so before slowly slipping into recharge.

"…Yer ma' guardian angel."

**_End of Chapter 9_**

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**_A/N:_**_ You know, now that this chap is finished, the story seems a little slow in pace. But, come to think of it, the entire robot-creatures-came-to-Earth-and-got-a-human-involved-in-their-war issue is really strange and fantastic in itself, and thus brings out a LOT of reactions in the aforementioned human (Rita). The topic is too psychologically traumatic in its nature to pay it just a couple of pages, you know. And by the way, the 'magnetic influence soothes the pains' bit is actually true (at least I really saw such information on the net). Thanks a lot for reading, and please review. Your interest and attention to this fic is the main reason I'm writing it, so your reviews will make me a very happy Lola :) Be safe, and till the next chapter ;)_


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